


Iridescence

by StarTravel



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Claustrophobia, Communication Failure, Fluff and Humor, Identity Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Self-Esteem Issues, Unreliable Narrator, Unresolved Romantic Tension, alternate Universe -Fae
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-13 05:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16886313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Julian takes a few deep breaths, slender body shaking against Garak’s harshly. When he opens his eyes, they almost look golden in the dim light of his cave. “When I was little, I wasn’t what my parents wanted, so they ... fixed me.”Julian spits the word ‘fixed’ like it’s unclean. Garak wraps his wings around him more fully, shielding him from outside view as Julian clutches the center of his head and lets out a yowl that’s as much beast as man. “Why are you telling me this, my dear healer?”“I want you to understand -”! Julian cuts himself off with a silent scream of pain, body jerking forward and only held upright by the solidness of Garak’s wings. Julian wraps his small hand around one of Garak’s claws, fine-boned fingers shaking as he looks up at Garak as though in a silent plea. “Understand when I don’t love you anymore.”Or the AU where Garak is a dragon and Julian is something else entirely.





	1. Light

 Julian glides down the cobblestone path, slippers thin enough that he can feel the morning dew on the pads of his feet. The air feels cool today and Julian shivers a little as he reaches the steps to the garden courtyard. He wishes it were a bit larger; but they’re lucky to have one at all. Most forts don’t, but Lord Sisko insisted on giving Keiko a garden to work on her agricultural projects in, turning the yard before the tennis courts into a milieu of vegetables and herbs.

 Julian spends nearly as much time there as Keiko, experimenting with different medicinal properties of various herbs and cross-breeding specimens to see if they yield new results. So it’s not surprising to find Miles loitering there whenever he’s free from the blacksmith shop, making small talk or trying to drag one of them away when the sun’s well past set.

 But it is a little unusual to see him like he is there now, wandering across the grassy paths, boots making loud crunching sounds across the grass. His marigold shirt shines in the midday light, a sharp contrast with his grey trousers and matching vest. Julian’s own teal shirt stays bright no matter what, a gleam to it that makes him and Jadzia stand out at court and on battlefields alike. A good Lord and Captain always knows where his healer and alchemist are, after all.

 “Miles, I didn’t expect to find you here. We’re not set for our match for another few hours.” Julian calls with a wide grin, waving one hand through the air with his fingers spread wide. Miles glances up at him with a half-smile, nodding so that his tawny curls bounce across his forehead. Julian’s eyes sparkle a bit as he comes to stand next to Miles, not quite able to keep the pleading expression off his face. “Unless you wanted to practice your swordsmanship?” 

 “You’re a healer Julian, you don’t need to practice swordplay.” Miles lets out a long snort, chuckling a little as he takes a few steps toward Julian. Soon they're walking in the same stride, Julian wrapping his right wrist around his left behind his back. Miles glances up at him and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “No, I just wanted some peace and quiet, but I guess I won’t be getting much of that.”

 “Very funny.” Julian lets out a wounded sound deep in the back of his throat, though he’s still smiling as they take a few steps towards flowers that are almost as tall as Major Kira and whose blossoms are even more of a bright red. They’re useful both as a spice and as a way of lessening the pain of a sore throat. Julian can’t help but feel relief at how quickly they’re growing. The dry season is coming soon. Patients double then, sometimes triple and Julian needs all the medication he can make if he’s not going to have to -

 A hand on his shoulder brings Julian back to the moment, grip firm and gaze a bit tighter than it was a few seconds ago. “What are you doing out here? Thought you’d be halfway to town by now.”

 “I don’t go running every time Garak comes to the village.” Julian huffs as he squeezes his right hand around his left wrist a bit tighter. Miles gives him a disbelieving look, brow furrowing as though trying to find the trick. Julian simply gives him his most beatific smile in return, the one he learned from watching Garak with General Dukat. “Besides, I didn’t want you to be lonely before our match.”

 Miles scoffs as he bumps his shoulders against Julian’s, some of the grime from his time in the hearth coming off on the side of Julian’s shirt. Julian rubs urgently at the ash in his sleeve, creating a darker colored smudge that starts to spread toward his chest. Miles grins at him with a hint of fondness, pulling his hand away before he can make the stain spread any further down his sleeve. “Wouldn’t have been, you pest.”

 No, of course not.” Julian can’t help the slightly mocking tone of his voice as they keep heading through the garden. “Is Keiko still on her trip to monitor the farms in the southlands?”

 “For the next few weeks.” Miles’ expression doesn’t change from his friendly half-smile, voice suddenly so light that Julian’s surprised he can’t see the words floating up above the flower beds. But his shoulders slump and his hands roll into fists, and Julian’s spent enough time trying to understand body language to know his friend misses his wife.

 That and Miles always misses Keiko when she goes on these long trips across the country, letters weeks or even months apart and his quarters suddenly silent and filled with decaying trees.

 “I’ll be sure to keep a bed ready for you in the sick hall for you.” Julian promises as he brushes his hand across an orange blossom, the edges almost iridescent. It will bear fruit soon, heavy with juice and translucent seeds that can help stave off aching muscles. “I’ll have to keep these in stock just for you.”

 Miles grunts in a low voice, scrunching his eyebrows together. He rolls his shoulders in an exaggerated way, one that reminds Julian a little bit of himself. Miles puffs up his chest, trying and not quite managing to be the image of perfect knight. God knows he’s closer than Julian’s ever gotten though. “I’m not going to throw out my shoulder boating again. I’ll be careful.”

 “Of course you will.” Julian answers in an appeasing voice, even though his gaze is still playful and teasing. Mile rolls his eyes, the air going out of his chest breath by breath, almost as though he’s deflating. “Any chance you want to move our game up an hour, since we’re both here?”

 Miles comes to a full stop, twisting around on his heel so he can jab his index finger against Julian’s chest. His hand adds a new smudge to the center of his outfit, so it’s half on his leathery grey vest and half on his one of the buttons of his teal top. “I’m not changing my schedule around so you can go moon over a Cardassian spy!”

 “We can’t know for sure that he’s a spy!” Julian’s voice comes out just a hair too defensive and it takes him a full second to realize over the _wrong_ thing. Julian doesn’t moon over Garak, they have a relationship built on a mutual appreciation of literature and mystique, secrets making th air between them sweeter than any nectar. That Julian’s very much attracted to him hasn’t mattered for months.

 “You’re the one who told us all he was!” Miles reminds him roughly, crossing his arms tightly against his chest, hands digging into the edge of his once marigold shirt. Julian imagines it will be all ash grey by the time Keiko comes home. Then Miles leans in, expression softening as something almost concerned comes into his voice. “And time has proved you right.”

 Julian smiles at Miles and tries to give him a reassuring look, one hand coming up to brush against his friend’s shoulder in an unspoken promise to be careful. Miles gives him a half nod, not looking entirely relieved but enough that Julian knows they’re not going to have that particular fight again. Then Julian grins, eyes sparking a bit. “Fine, But then you have to listen to my thoughts on the latest plays by Jesan.”

 “Suddenly I feel like playing.” Miles starts walking again, arms right against his chest as he marched toward the tennis courts, boots clanking heavily against the cobblestones at the end of the garden path.

 “Thank you Miles,” Julian calls cheerfully as he comes to walk side by side with his friend again. He bites his lip to keep from rambling, not sure if stories about medicine or Jesan or his latest experiment will slide off his tongue, but he knows Miles doesn’t like to hear about any of them while they play.

 It’s fine. Garak will in a few hours.

 *******

 Julian strides into town, trying to square his shoulders to fake a bravado he doesn’t truly feel. Garak’s frequent yet still far too uncommon visits always throw him off his game, make his limbs feel too gangly and uneven, all his clothes suddenly the wrong colors and style, his eyes lacking the knowing they should possess. He makes Julian feel painfully _human_ in a way he never has before, in a way that makes his heart race and his smiles sincere even when Garak is mocking him.

 Sometimes, late at night when even the stars have vanished from the sky and the world cloaks itself in a comforting darkness, Julian wonders if that’s love. Then he reminds himself love are not for beings like him and forces the thought away.

 No, Garak is merely his friend, a friend he’s coming to visit at the shop he rents when he comes to the village near their fort. Nothing more.

 Julian comes to stand in front of Garak’s shop, pulling at the edge of his peasant shirt. He’s chosen a bright coral and paired it with breeches that gleam gold in the right light. If nothing else, they’ll catch Garak’s eye for hoarding if not fashion. That could be enough. Julian takes a deep breath and pushes his way through the door, gaze landing on familiar neck ridges. “My dear Mr. Garak, you didn’t send me more than a day’s notice of your visit. I would’ve planned something special.”

 “How many times must I tell you, my dear healer? I’m just plain, simple Garak.” Garak’s voice manages to be chiding and teasing all at once, his short, sturdy fingers running along the edge of a dress skirt in a rich aubergine. He doesn’t make any move to turn to look at Julian yet. “And you know how I love surprising you.”

 Julian can’t quite stop the low scoff that slides from his lips. That’s what finally gets Garak to turn around, lips curling into a wide smile. He glances over Julian’s shirt with a small tsking sound, shaking his head as he takes a few steps towards him. His right hand lingers on the edge of the dress, a rich velvet, before pulling away to tug on the edge of Julian’s dangerously low-cut collar.

If he were Dragonborn like Garak, he’s be dangerously and provocatively revealing his most intimate neck ridges. But all of Julian’s powers and secrets lie in his forehead, always there if anyone bothered to look. Julian smirks as he leans in, glancing up at Garak through his eyelashes. “You mean proving me wrong?”

 “Both have a certain satisfaction.” Garak laughs, warm and rich, reaching out a clawed hand towards Julian. It comes to rest against his shoulder blade, thumb brushing against the bare skin of his collarbone. Julian swallows audibly as he meets the other man’s gaze. “I’ve read the play you lent me by Jesan.” 

 “Excited to tell me how much you hate it?” Julian asks with a sharp laugh, throwing his free arm across Garak’s back in a sort half embrace. Garak draws him closer, so there only a few inches between Julian’s neck and his lower ridges. Julian wonders if this is considered intimate for Dragonborn at the same time he lets out a low groan at Garak’s taste.

 Garak lets out chiding sigh, the hand on his shoulder tightening its grip and pulling Julian even closer than before. Anyone looking into the store from the streets might think they’re kissing, Garak running his hand over the skin of his neck posessively. Or maybe Julian just wants it to be. Garak clucks his tongue again, eyes wide and teasing. “So presumptuous. There were in fact aspects of the work I appreciated.” 

 “Really, Garak? Finally coming around on Federation values?” Julian smiles playfully, already knowing the answer is a firm no. Still, Julian can’t help but be pleased that Garak’s found something within his favorite poet and playwright to enjoy, some beauty he grasps there. Julian worries sometimes that their eventual opposing opinions on Cardassian and Federation literature will drive a wedge between them.

 Garak flicks the skin of his neck, gaze find even as he reluctantly pulls his hand away. His grin grows dark and knowing in a way that makes Julian shiver a little under his gaze. “No, but I could come around on wide-eyes, handsome knights.”

 “You know, I’ve competed in a few sword fights in my day, Garak.” Julian drops his voice a bit, low and secretive, even though he’s sure Garak wouldn’t have said that bit about the knight otherwise. How much else does Garak know about him that he’s told no one else?

 “My dear healer, have you?” Garak‘s words are weighted and measured in ways Julian can’t begin to fathom, Garak’s hand ghosting over his shoulder. Then it’s gone, Garak turning his attention back to the dress as though Julian isn’t even there. “You’ll have to tell me more about them tonight over dinner. Say 21:00 hours?” 

 His next shift at the fort starts in a few minutes. He’ll barely it make it back in time, but for Julian can’t bring himself to mind being late. Not when Garak glances back at him out of the corner of his eye, something almost tender in his gaze. “Of course.” 

 *****

 Julian just makes his afternoon rounds, not bothering to change back into his uniform. Patients came before proprietary. He stumbles into the sickbay to find no patients waiting for him yet, letting out a low exhale. He really does need to catch up on his research into salves based in Bajoran cloves. He thinks, mixed with the right amount of Trillian peppermint shavings, they could be a potent cure for headaches.

 He pushes his way through the door that leads from his sick bay to the apothecary he shares with Dax, not surprised to find the woman there mixing several colorful concoctions together as steam rises from the cauldron. She waves at him from over the pot, her blue eyes highlighted by the purple smoke beneath. “Jadzia, how is your latest project going? Have you found a way to augment the protective fields around the castle walls yet?” 

 “I’m working on it, but that project deals with magic, so I can’t do much until Kira comes back from Bajor.” Jadzia mutters with a low sigh, frustration and guilt mixing in her voice. Kira was of Bajor and thus of magic born, if in a very different way than the Fae or the other magical creatures of the western woods. Prophet touched they call the Bajorans, able to tap into fields of magic and bring them forth into the human realm. But unlike the fae, it drains them and Kira has enough on her plate as Captain Sisko’s Chief political advisor.

 Julian could certainly understand not wanting to put more pressure on her, _he_ is the one who told Kira to take more time for herself. Julian starts halving the cloves with the red knife on his side of their table, glancing up at Jadzia thoughtfully. “You could ask Odo for help. He is of the fae.”

 “The Fae can’t do protective magic except on each other, you know that, Julian.” Jadzia lets out a frustrated sound that could be a laugh or a growl, pushing a few strands of her long dark hair back over her shoulder. Julian swallows a little because of course he knows Fae can’t do that _naturally._ He’s seen Odo’s frustration over not being able to use his powers as the fae to protect those close to him, instead turning his magic into a careful offense. 

 “Not even with that magic hair of theirs or the horns they take from unicorns?” Julian asks carefully, furrowing his brow as he considers the possibility of slipping into the western woods. It’s dangerous, but he (or any human born, really) can stay there for a few hours before the magic surrounding and filling each tree and blossom starts to either reject or transform them, depending on their lineage. Garak would merely turn into his full dragon form, while Jadzia would be pushed back by the trees.

 Jadzia meets his gaze conspiratorially, but there’s a hint of amusement in her smirk. He knows that particular Dax smirk, seen it enough times on both Jadzia and her cousin Ezri to know it means they think he’s both sweet and also quite ridiculous. “No one knows what the silver hair of the fae or what the horn of a unicorn does.”

 “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Julian’s voice is clipped as he aggressively slices three more cloves, healthy smell of spice filling the air. He tries to bury himself in that, in the feel of the cold metal handle against his palm and the deep purple of the clove and anything but the way Jadzia’s words make his blood feel more like snake venom. 

Silence comes over the room, thick and unnverving. When Julian looks up he finds Jadzia watching him, hands stiff where they grip her wooden spoon. There’s a worry in her eyes he knows he can’t answer. “What do you mean, Julian?”

 “Just there have been decent studies into the biogenetics of magical locks. In a few decades I imagine we’ll know far more than we do now.” Julian’s voice is muffled and he can’t quite meet Jadzia’s gaze, turning his full attention to the cloves lying against the table. They’re a more vivid purple than usual this year, color and scent richer than they should be. He wonders if that has to do with changes in the soil texture or -

 “Not if we end up going to war with the fae before the end of the year.” Jadzia suddenly cuts off his trail of thought before he can get too lost in the minutiae. She frowns tightly as she suddenly starts stirring the pot twice as quickly as before.

 A chill runs through Julian at her words, with fear he doesn’t quite manage to hide as his hands tremble around the cloves. If it came to that, Julian has no idea how many ways his own world and the greater one around him might alter. Magic against magic never ends well for anyone. And would the Dragonborn keep to their peace treaty with Bajor or side with the fae? And that’s not even getting to the werewolves in the north. There are too many possibilities, too many losses of life for Julian to bear. 

Julian sucks in a deep breath, putting on what he hopes is a convincing smile. “Well lets hope it doesn’t come to that.”

 “That’s all we can do.” Jadzia agrees in a tight voice, usually playful gaze suddenly sharp and far away. Sometimes Julian forgets that she has the knowledge of centuries between her ears, each dot along her sides a different year. Then, as though their entire conversation never happened, Jadzia turns to him with a wide smile and sparkling eyes that Julian can’t help mirroring. “Now enough worries for now. Do you want to hear about the party I went to last night? I met the cutest red headed Bajoran.” 

 “Really? Do tell.” Julian’s voice is lilting, a hint of laughter in each word as Jadzia and be exchange herbs and stories. They can worry about the war tomorrow.

 *****

  Julian doesn’t have the benefit of waiting for tomorrow to think about the war, however. Not when he’s standing in front of the door to Garak’s rented shop a good 15 minutes after the other man told him to be there, the scent of dying heavy in the air. Julian considers waiting a few more minutes, to let Garak saunter out with hooded eyes and teasing words at Julian’s childish fears. Then he decides against it and pushes on the door. It’s open. Garak never leaves doors unlocked. “Garak? I thought you said to meet you in front of the shop. Is this another surprise?”

 “I’m afraid not, my dear healer.” Garak’s voice calls out, faint and weak, just a hint of a rasp to it as though he’s struggling to gain purchase. Julian bolts toward where the sound came from, kneeling down next to Garak’s table as he feels his body go slack for a moment.

  Before him lies Garak between forms, body twice as wide as usual, scales rougher where they brush against Julian’s arms. And his wings - wings Julian has never been allowed to witness before - are spread out behind him, beautiful and leathery in a way that feels like home.

 They’re also dripping in blood.

 “Garak! What happened?” Julian cries as he comes back to himself, reaching over to check across his friends mouth - well snout at the moment, fingers careful not to push too hard. There’s no blood there, but there are incisions along his neck ridges that frighten Julian and burn marks everywhere. White burn marks. “Wait those burnt marks along the table - Garak has there been a goblin in here? A free one or-” 

 “Jem Hadar.” Garak rasps even though the question is purely rhetorical, since Garak shouldn’t be trying to speak while wounded. At least none of them look mortal, scent of dying be damned. Julian focuses on spreading salve on the deeper cuts along the edges of his friend’s neck, covering each one with a careful wrap of gauze. If Garak doesn’t take the bandages off, they should be healed with minimal scarring in a few days. 

 Julian glances up at Garak and bites his lips, shifting across his solid yet soft stomach toward the other side of his neck. This isn’t how Julian expected their first intimate encounter to go, but be supposes it’s better than what he _did_ expect. Julian swallows, gaze locked on the claw marks along the other side of Garak’s neck. His stomach drops as the words Garak said hit him harder than they did a moment ago. Fuck. “God. Do you have any idea why the Fae would send a _Jem_ _Hadar_ after you? And on Federation soil?”

 “I can’t imagine what the Fae would want with a humble tailor.” Garak’s voice is stronger this time, with a teasing edge to it that makes Julian laugh in relief inspite of himself. Garak flaps his wings awkwardly behind him, one hitting Julian’s side. “Maybe they want to update their wardrobes. They can be terribly drab. Just look at the constable.”

 “ _Garak.”_ Julian lets out a frustrated sigh as he his hands glide down Garak’s neck ridges, carefully wrapping each scratch in bandages until his neck like a cloud of white. And to think Julian will have to do it all over again when he either transforms into his full dragon form or back into his more humanoid one.

 Except wait. Why hadn’t Garak gone one way or the other? It’s not typical for Dragonborn to revert to the in between form when in pain. Granted, Garak’s never been typical, but Julian can’t imagine he differs in this. Julian’s gaze travels down his neck,  freezing as he sees a familiar, glittering neck ridge torn asunder. “Trust me, my dear Healer, if I had any knowledge for why they would have attacked me, I would tell you.”

 “No you wouldn’t.” Julian mutters as he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, hands dipping into the salve that’s all but useless for this level of injury. If they were at the fort, he might be able to perform a surgery on Garak, but they’re not and the scale won’t heal right if they don’t handle it soon. It’s the deepest neck ridge, the source of Garak’s magic. If they leave it as it is, Garak will be stuck in this in between form, inhuman but also weak and unsafe, forever. Julian can’t allow that.

 Julian opens his eyes and presses his hands against the ridge, watching as little beams of lights envelope the wound. Streaks of red and yellow chase each other before melting into an orange that suddenly shifts blue, before mixing with a new purple spark. In the end, they all come together and shine a brilliant mixture of rainbow-colored, glittering rays of light. Then they fade away to reveal a scale that looks untouched. Julian pulls his salve covered hands back and prays that Garak was too distracted by his pain to look down at him.  “But here, you’re lucky I carry salves with me.”

 Garak stares at him blankly for a moment, his mouth pulling inward and his sharp rows of teeth softening to something more familiar. It only takes a few seconds for his wings to roll and vanish back into the grey skin of his back, body shrinking until he is no longer twice Julian’s size.

Garak stares at him for a moment, gaze cold and analytical in the way he stares at empty-eyed men he insists against all reason are mere customers. Julian waits for his world to shatter. But then those eyes fill with tenderness, and if Julian were sitting with a different person, something he’d think was mercy. “I suppose I should count my blessings that you were on time for once.” 

 “What am I going to do with you?” Julian answers with a laugh that feels like it’s being ripped from his throat, collapsing against Garak’s chest in what feels like hysterics.

 Julian closes his eyes and takes a few shaky breaths, trying to push the laughter down even as more erratic emotions start spreading across his spine. Through it all, Garak holds him and whispers no word of rainbow lights or men with stars in their eyes.


	2. Tain

Garak takes a few deep breaths as he slowly comes back to himself, the painful burn on the edge of his neck and tongue fading back to nothing. Garak gives Julian a light shove, watching as he shakily rolls to his feet, arms stretched out over his head to keep some semblance of balance. Julian turns around hurriedly when he realizes Garak is still shifting down to his human form, thicker scales and ridges dissolving to remove smooth lines of skin. Garak lets out a low snort out at the human proprietary -proprietary he’s no longer even sure _Julian_ should have. Still, there’s something almost sweet about it, in its own way.

  Garak slides off of the floor, tugging slightly on the now far too wide bandages that decorate his neck and fall down across his shoulders. Julian makes an impatient huffing sound and Garak  lets out a low chuckle as he pulls his back trousers on, quickly following with the intricately scaled black top he’d made to remind himself of home. Garak raises an eye ridge as he takes a few steps toward Julian, a hint of a smirk in his lips that makes Julian flush down to his neck. “I suppose our dinner will be later than we planned, my dear healer.”

 “Garak, we have to tell Captain Sisko about this attack. If the Fae have breached Federation borders, nowhere in the Alpha Countries are safe.” That there is no fretting over Garak’s continued health or flustered attempts to explain away how Julian’s hands flickered with magic is sign enough for Garak that this is as bad as he thinks it is. And not just for himself and Cardassia, but for the Federation lands as well, Julian’s gaze firm with a determination he normally reserves for patients.

 That means Garak has allies here he normally wouldn’t, powerful ones such as Lord Sisko and Constable Odo. So long as they all recognize that it is them versus the Fae, of course. There will be no room for Julian’s compassion or idealism in these fights.

 “For once, my dear, I have to agree with you.” Garak tells him with a hint of a smile, crossing the room so they’re standing side by side, a silence spreading through the air around him. Garak swallows a little, the carefully built equilibrium between them suddenly completely shifted off its axis. Garak smiles suddenly, warm and disingenuous as he presses a hand over where a human’s heart would be. “Though I have to admit it’s a bit intimidating, speaking to the entire court about something as silly as a mistaken attack.”

 Julian lets out a slight huff, an almost chiding quality to it as he glances down at Garak. Garak merely keeps his placid smile, raising his eye ridges in mock-surprise. Julian shakes his head back and forth, an impish grin coming across his face in spite of the unease still heavy in his eyes. “Do you need me to hold you hand?”

 “Only if you want to.” Garak quips with a tilt of the head, his now slimmer, lightly scaled tale lightly batting the side of Julian’s bare ankle, pants ending a few inches above his thin teal slippers. He wonders how Julian runs across cobblestones in such flimsy things, typically human feet are far too delicate for that. Julian, as Garak expects, rolls his eyes, shaking his head a little as he bumps Garak’s tail back with his bony foot. Then something new and entirely unexpected happens, soft human skin pressing against the ridges along his wrist hesitantly.

 Garak glances down at where Julian’s hand lies against his wrist then back up to Julian’s face, lightly parted lips and a tender gaze that’s far too hopeful for his own good. If this were a fairy tale - but it is not. Julian is no prince, and even if he were, the dragons are always abandoned in the end. He still lets Julian slides his fingers through his own, squeezing his hand lightly as he takes a few steps toward the door. Julian’s soft and warm, and Garak is an old dragon who doesn’t have it in him to deny himself what comforts he has left right now. Not when the end of days in on all their doorsteps.

 *****

Garak smiles brightly in response to the dark stares and snarls he receives from the Bajoran medical staff as Julian guides him through the back halls of the sick bay. It's a secret entrance to the fort he’s positive Julian shouldn’t be letting him see. He’s always trusted him far too much for his own good. Garak wonders if that will last past the war. Then Julian leads him up stairs and through a small hatch in the ground, Garak finding himself face to well, boot with Captain Sisko. Julian might be more of a hopeless case than he thought. Garak squeezes Julian’s hand in a faked need for moral support, knowing that seeing it will make Lord Sisko feel more kindly towards him, since the man has a soft spot for Julian. Then he climbs the rest of the way out of the hatch, smile stiff and apologetic. “My Lord.”

 “Garak, I don’t need a dress uniform.” Lord Sisko calls out to him as he stands up in front of his finely curved desk, the deep cherry wood shining despite the sun having long since set. Bajoran magic, if Garak had to guess. Sisko raises an eyebrow at him, lips pressed into a thin line as he meets Garak’s gaze with a wariness that warms Garak’s heart. At least some people still recognize Garak for who and what he is. Then Sisko’s gaze drops to where his hand is still wrapped around Julian’s own, thumb lazily drawing circles into the bone of his wrist. “Unless you’re merely here as Healer Bashir’s guest?”

 “If only, my lord. I fear my shop was attacked, possibly with the intent of killing me.” Garak tries to convey terror he doesn’t truly feel as he gazes up at Sisko, voice soft and beseeching. Sisko lets out a low exhale, brow furrowed as he comes to rest his right hand against his chin in feigned annoyance. Garak, though, can see the calculations in his eyes, the various possibilities both for why Garak would lie and why he’d do the far more dangerous thing of telling the truth flicking across his gaze. Garak lets out a muffled sound of hurt, holding his hands out palms forward in front of him. “What the Jem H’adar would want with a simple tailor -“

 “The Jem H’adar? Why would the Jem H’adar want to attack a Cardassian?” Sisko cuts him off in a voice that manages to convey annoyance and consideration all in one, one hand palm up in the air with a sense of decisiveness even most Cardassians would be jealous of. Garak lets go of Julian’s hand, bending his arm at the elbow as he sweeps into a low bow. Sisko is a lord who earned his title through battles and political machinations, after all. He’s earned the respect of a simple tailor.

 Garak comes up from his bow, smile a bit tighter as he rolls his shoulders. The timbre of his voice changes this time, more obviously affected than it was before. He saunters across the room until he’s closer to Sisko than sweet, silly Julian. Garak shakes his head, voice low and filled with silent answers to all of Sisko’s unspoken questions. “I can’t imagine. We have no issue with the Fae. Really, in some ways we feel more connected to the cultures of the forest than the alpha quadrant. You can all be so … sloppy.”

 “ _Garak_.” Julian hisses from across the room, taking a few steps toward him warning signs in his gaze. It really is incredible, how little Julian understands of these kinds of circumstances. It fascinates Garak, that one could stay so innocent in a world that demands so much sacrifice. But Garak supposes that’s what privilege and sheltering does for a young man.

 Either way Garak (and Sisko, he can’t help noting) both ignore Julian’s words and confused stares. There are more important matters at hand, the scent of blood trailing in the air around them, along with the ghost of smoke that will burn half the alpha quadrant if they don’t stop it first. Indeed, the fact that a Jem H’adar attacked Garak at all is a sign that some ally of his - and he has few these days - or an enemy who used to be a friend- of which he has hundreds - have gone for the Fae.

 Now is not the time for Federation methods. “But If they are after me, I suppose it _is_ possible there’s been new tensions between Cardassia and The Fae since my last trip there. I would need a way to learn more though, of course.”

 “Something like magic mirrors that can only be formed by dragon blood?” Sisko asks with a pointed sigh, even though Garak can see a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. Like recognizes like, after all, and he and Lord Sisko have more in common than any of his corps knew, save dear Dax. Garak wonders, if ever, the others will figure it out.

 “Why, I never would’ve thought of borrowing your mirror, thank you, my Lord.” Garak answers him with a wide smile as he follows Sisko across the room and through the heavy oak doors at the end of the hall, doors that lead to Constable Odo’s chambers. The doors fall shut with a sound of finality, only to be pushed back open just as suddenly. Julian slides into the room with a look that manages to convey stubbornness at the same time as a pleading hope, one Sisko answers with a tired sigh and a quick nod. Garak finds it terribly sweet and unquestionably stupid when Julian comes to stand at his side, gaze tender and worried for him when he should be far more worried for his dear Federation.

 ***** 

 It’s been three hours since Garak first began watching Tain through the lens of the glass, his blood flowing freely into mirror resting on the Constable’s desk. Julian stands to his left, watching each drop fall with an anxiousness that makes Garak laugh in spite of himself. He can lose three times as much blood as this without even getting faint. The Federation’s information on Cardassian physiology is truly lacking.

 Almost as lacking as Tain’s plan to burn the fae groves to the ground while poisoning the water of the western woods. _Himself_ even. It’s so amateurish that Garak’s almost ashamed to have him as a mentor, even if he does agree that removing the fae from the face of the earth could only be a boon for all of them. He’d still kill them with _some_ level of finesse. God knows the Fae will be suspicious about a small group of dragons suddenly circling their crystal lake when no one but Fae or unicorns have touched it in centuries. “I can’t believe he would be this careless. It’s an offense to the entire Obsidian Order!”

 “Yes, because that’s the problem here.” Odo answers with a low hmphing noise deep in his throat, dismissive and haughty in a way Garak’s always respected. Still, Garak can tell from the faint hint of disapproval in his voice that Odo agrees with him about Tain’s poor planning. Old age must be getting to the man.

 How tragic to see the truly great start to fall, but that simply means Garak will have to rescue him from himself. Besides, Tain can’t be doing _everything_ wrong. Either Tain’s put enough fear into the Fae that they feel the need to take out anyone connected with Tain, or Tain’s managed to take control of enough Jem H’adar to send them out to kill people he perceives as threats.

Both lead Garak to the same, delightful conclusion: this trip to the wood could be both the end of the threat from the Fae and his way back to Cardassia. All he has to do is what he’s done for the better part of his life: fix Tain’s messes. “I’m glad you understand, Constable.”

 “The bigger question here is what we’re going to do about this. We can’t let Tain destroy the source of the Fae’s power, and we can’t give the Fae anymore ground here than they already have.” Sisko calls out in a tight voice, brow furrowed as he takes a few steps back from the mirror. Garak pulls his arm back, a few drops of blood splashing against the edge of Odo’s table. He can feel Major Kira, just back from Bajor, staring daggers into his back as she takes a few quick steps closer to Odo. She’s always been so sweetly protective, but he has no issue with Odo. Not yet, anyway.

 The mirror goes blank in front of him as the last wave of blood dries, Tain vanishing from his life just like he always did for months on end. Julian grabs his arm with a surprisingly gentle touch, carefully stopping the blood with a precision Garak’s always admired.

  He might miss Julian a little, once he’s home. But no matter, that feeling will fade as quickly as the stains of blood on his scales. Julian has always been, can only be, a temporary amusement. Garak’s eyes are pulled away from the healer’s bony hands spreading against his skin when Kira’s voice fills the air, sharp and furious. “We need to stop Tain before he gets Cardassia _and_ all of Bajor destroyed.”

 “Or help him to prevent The Fae from doing that on a much larger scale a few months from now.” Garak throws out with a wide smile as Julian finishes tying the last bit of gauze around the palm of his hand. It’s a confession wrapped in his wide smile, as easy to write off as a joke if things go South as it is to claim as a confession when facing those wide, betrayed eyes. The ones currently shooting him a flat look, Julian’s hands pulling away with a long-suffering groan. “Just a suggestion.”

 Kira, on the other hand, gives him a look so cold it makes even his heart beat just a hair faster. He has no doubt that she already sees his betrayal coming, that she has since the first day he walked into their quaint village. Odo’s expression is neutral as always, unchanging save the low grunt that slips from his mouth as he takes a step closer to Kira. But then, Garak’s not sure Odo’s ever trusted anyone in his life except for Major Kira. Now is no different. Sisko gives him a wary look, but his gaze is already far away, mouth set with determination. “We’ll stop Tain, But Mr. Garak isn’t entirely wrong. We need to give the Fae a message that House Sisko isn’t going anywhere.”

 “What are you suggesting? Remember, you’re not just a Federation General. You’re the emissary.” Kira reminds him in a tight voice, crossing her arms against her chest as she gives him a level stare. Sisko meets her gaze and something silent and unknowable, even for for him, passes between them.

 “Trust me, Nerys, I remember. This is as much for Bajor as it is the Federation. Now you and Odo come with me to the war room with Miles, we have some planning to do.” Sisko gestures to the rest of them with a sweep of his arm, giving Garak a pointed look when he takes a few steps toward them. No matter, he’ll find the information from their meeting out one way or the other before the night is over.

  Kira and Odo follow him, walking in line, hands brushing against each other as they move their feet to the same rhythm Garak can’t hear. Garak swallows a disappointed sigh; what a naive choice, to let the other get so close. It’s not one Garak will make. Not twice anyway.

 Garak can’t help noticing that Julian doesn’t follow them, inching towards the door and looking rather purposefully nowhere near Garak. Oh. So even his fellow corps members consider him too naive, too innocent to allow anywhere near their plans for preventing this war. God knows Julian’s never been at accepting unnecessary loss of life, and somehow he considers them _all_ unnecessary.

 He decides to make him look at him, sauntering across the room until they’re standing side by side again. He smiles at Julian, razor-sharp and with a knowing that makes Julian flush down from his cheeks to his collarbones. It’s not a bad look on him. “I notice they didn’t invite you, my dear.”

 “They didn’t mention Jadzia either.” Julian points out in a clipped voice as he he turns around to meet Garak’s gaze, lips drawn into a thin line and arms crossed around his chest tight enough to cause the edges of his shirt sleeves to pull a little. There’s something rueful in his gaze, maybe even embarrassed and Garak can’t quite resist the urge to tease his dear healer some more. He slides his hand to his shoulder, grinning softly as he squeezes his skin just near the edge of his neck.   

 “No.” Garak says amicably as he gently guides Julian toward the door they came through, hand never leaving where it rests against his shoulder blade and the edge of that lovely slim neck. Humans really were such delicate things, all soft skin and slender bones, and Julian here sometimes seems like he might be the most fragile of them all. Other times though, like when Julian gives Garak the look he has now, hooded and full of anticipation of whatever cutting words come out of his mouth next, Garak thinks he might be the strongest one he knows. But then, Julian’s always been something of a puzzle. Garak wouldn’t take so much time on him otherwise.  “But I imagine she’ll be there?”

 Julian lets out a low huff, shaking his head as though in an admittance of defeat. Garak’s grin widens, squeezing down on his shoulder one last time before pulling his hand away to let it rest at his side instead. If he misses the contact, he gives Julian and his infatuated smile no sign of it. Julian’s voice manages to be defensive and sheepish all at once when he speaks. “I’m a healer, there’s no reason - look, I’ll show you to the guest rooms and we can still have the nice dinner we planned. I’ll even get you some of that rokassa juice you like so much.”

 “How lucky I was to befriend such a _thoughtful_ young man.” Garak’s voice is barely above a murmur as he glides through the double doors. He makes sure to stay one step ahead and one step apart from Julian the entire way down the hallway.

******

Garak’s abandoned as quickly as they arrive on the guest room, Julian doing an awkward half bow and nearly upending a hook from the wall in the process. Garak waits until he can’t hear Julian’s footsteps on the stone floor anymore. Then Garak reaches for the door, feeling a surge of pride when he finds it locked. So his dear healer is learning after all. Garak could break it easily if he needed to, of course but he decides to wait and let Julian savor his false victory.

Another few minutes pass before the door swings open, Julian appearing in the doorway with a smile that’s far too pleased with itself and tray balancing precariously on his free hand. Garak’s almost impressed when Julian manages to slide it onto the ottoman at the end of the guest bed without spilling either bowls of soup or the two glasses next to them. Julian picks up the one closer to him, scrunching up his nose as he pushes it into Garak’s waiting hand. “Here, as promised, one glass of rokassa juice. I’d offer kanar, but I fear we’d have to go Quark’s for that. Now tell me what you liked about Jesan’s _The Goblin Knight._ ”

 “I have to admit, his mastery of prose goes beyond the usual elementary level of Federation playwrights.” Garak tells him with a tilt of his head to the right, carefully swishing his fish juice back and forth in his glass as though it were kanar instead. He knows well enough not to ask for that, not when he knows Sisko takes understandable pleasure in making Dukat drink barley water.  Julian sits down on the edge of the ottoman, one long leg crossed under the other and his hand pressed under his chin as he watches Garak attentively. “And there was something truly _tragic_ about society’s treatment of Laneer.”

 “What?” Julian’s voice rings out, eyes wide and mouth hanging open for a few seconds as he tries to catch his bearings. It’s almost endearing, how Julian lets his every emotion show on his face, even more so now that Garak knows he has secrets he really should take more care to keep. “You don’t think they were right to refuse his knighthood? Garak, I’m shocked. They exiled him in the name of protecting Jursia.”

 Garak shakes his head and lets out a low sigh, giving Julian a scolding look before he can stop himself. The Federation really did drive such strange ideals into their citizens’ minds. It was a wonder they weren’t taken over centuries ago. “And if they were half as intelligent as Jesan implies, they’d realize that a man who possesses the skills of trained Federation warrior _and_ the shadow magic of a goblin could only be a boon to Jursia. They let their own lack of imagination and prejudice toward magic damage their army. It’s embarrassing really.”

 “I see.” Julian stares down at his tea without saying anything else, breath coming out almost erratically. He seems upset and confused, brow furrowing as he shakes his head a little.

 “Are you confused about your ideals? I never thought I’d see the day.” Garak grins playfully this time, even as he sizes Julian up. Magic isn’t forbidden in the Federation, but the Fae joining is, as are creatures born of magic and not more human esque means. Julian and his glowing hands could equally qualify for either, and yet he risked being here and a friendship with a known spy. Truly an enchantingly difficult creature. Julian huffs and shoots him a petulant look from the end of the ottoman. He lifts up his soup bowl and takes a few bites of carrots out of it, and Garak can’t help noticing it lacks the heavy meat of his own bowl. “You really do have the strangest eating habits, my dear.”

 “Too quickly to truly enjoy the carrot?” Julian rolls his eyes a bit as he starts chewing with exaggerated slowness, opening his mouth wide in a way that’s as immature as it is unattractive. Julian’s lucky he’s such a beautiful man.

 “No, this time I’m worried about your bland tastes, my dear. Your meals are almost always plain wheat and fruits and vegetables, with only the occasional lightly grilled fish to go with it. It’s far too boring for a man of your quality.” Garak explains all of this with a quick shake of the head and the same lecturing voice he uses whenever he wants to make Julian smile, annoyed and intrigued into what Garak wants to turn him into all at once.

 Sometimes a part of Garak wonders if he’ll have any interest at all when Julian’s finished, but then he pushes the thought aside. He’ll be in Cardassia long before that happens.

 Julian leans in, fluttering his eyelashes and smirking like he has no cares in the world. His gaze tells a different story, heavy with meaning and begging for a mercy Garak rarely gives. “Thank you, Garak, but I promise you I can take care of my own meals. I _am_ a healer.”

 After that they only discuss Jesan.

 ******

 Garak wakes up to summons from Captain Sisko and finds himself being lead to the war room by two guards with heavy swords. He almost thinks they don't trust him.

 “We’ve been presented with a unique if dangerous opportunity, and it would be unwise not to take it.” Sisko begins as Garak walks into the war room, quickly taking his place in the safety between Julian and Jadzia, far from Kira’s scorching gaze or Odo’s probing questions. Julian shoots him a sly look out of the corner of his eye, almost proud as he bumps their shoulders together. Oh. He thinks Garak is going to do the right thing. Garak’s not sure he’s ever pulled off a deception this complete before, where his mark actually thought he was _good_. Garak wonders how long he can keep him under that illusion, if things go poorly enough that he doesn’t end up back in Cardassia at all. “But it would be equally unwise not to take certain precautions.”

 “Benjamin?” Jadzia raises an eyebrow as she takes a step towards him, hands crossed behind her back. There’s a spark of excitement in her gaze as she smiles knowingly. Garak has no doubt Sisko told her his plan last night in detail. Dax is and always has been his most trusted friend. It doesn’t matter what skins or first names they were on the outside. Souls can recognize souls.

 Garak returns her smile with a quick one of his own, a flash of white teeth and confident, sparkling eyes that seem to put everyone around him except for Garak and Odo at ease. Then the grin fades away, his brow furrowing as his voice comes with as much weight as Garak’s ever heard within it. “This is going to be a three-pronged mission. Kira and I were go to the north side of western woods, where the portal between the magical realm and Bajor lies. Between her magic and my role as the emissary, we think we’ll be able to temporarily close the portal while our people are inside.”

 “People?” Kira’s voice is tight and a little angry, her gaze snapping around from person to person with an anger that does nothing to hide her concern. Garak can’t blame her. The Fae are a dangerous, almost unknown entity even to him. The idea of someone like Blacksmith O’Brien or Julian being their only defense against them is frankly terrifying.

Garak’s just glad that he believes - or at least hopes - Sisko has more sense than to send them or Kira into the deep woods. She could handle them, in theory, but she’s the perfect trade for who they _really_ want and anyone whose seen the way Odo watches her knows that.

 “Garak and Odo will head off Tain at the crystal lake in the middle of the woods. We have closer access to it from the fort than they do from Cardassia, and they’ll need to poison the waters there if they have any hopes of taking the Fae out. Garak will … rescue Tain from his own poor choices and Odo can nullify the poison with the antidote Dax and Bashir worked on.” Sisko explains everything in a clipped voice that brokers no argument and he doesn’t get any, save the uneasy looks on Major Kira’s and Julian’s face, their lips curling almost in unison. Odo simply tilts his head in acknowledgement, not even sparing Garak so much as a glance. Well-played.

 Garak starts doing the calculations in his head before he can stop himself. Odo, if he can convince him, would be a powerful ally in his and Tain’s quest to destroy the rest of the Fae. But Garak knows Odo feels some connection to his people despite choosing the Fort over them, and he doesn’t doubt that Odo would choose the other Fae over _him_.

  He’ll need to find higher stakes than that to convince Odo or … well, Garak knows how to convince men to do things they’d never dreamed of. He just hopes it doesn’t come to that with the Constable. Garak glances up at Sisko, voice coming out carefully as he strategizes. “What about the Fae to the East who will notice the protective walls coming up?”

 “Miles will use old-fashioned iron to keep them away.” Sisko grins over at Miles, gaze sparkling as the other man holds up a rickety looking old shield as an example. Odo makes a low growl deep in his throat, shifting closer to Major Kira. Garak wonders if he can feel the effect all the way from the other side of the room. Truly a ridiculous weakness, that the Fae are briefly exhausted and stymied by _iron_ of all things. Still, that only lasts for a few hours at most, and usually less than that. They’ll need to make sure to time all three of these events perfectly if Garak is to come anywhere near Tain.

 “That won’t work.” Julian’s voice cuts through the air, the strength of it surprising Garak as he turns to face the younger man. Julian has a strange expression on his face, gaze flicking around and hands shaking even as he speaks with an assurance Garak’s not sure he has any reason to possess. Though that’s not unusual for Julian either.

 Apparently him having it with Sisko is, if the way the other man’s eyes widen and his nearly drops open is anything to go by. He raises an eyebrow, voice coming out steady but with just a hint of disbelief. “Julian?”

 “Miles doesn’t have any magic and Odo doesn’t know the finer details of how the antidote works.” Julian explains in an analytical, almost professional voice, hands stretching out in front of them as though to help make his point. Garak blinks a bit, one eye ridge going up in surprise when he finds the healer is right. Maybe he has better chances of surviving a war than Garak gives him credit for. Then Julian swallows tightly, some of the trepidation in his hands sliding up to his throat. “Send Odo with Miles so he can protect him from the Fae and I’ll go with Garak. I have an advantage here, I have met Tain.”

 Maybe Garak gave him too much credit a few seconds ago. He can’t help frowning tightly as he glances at Julian from the corner of his eye, mouth suddenly dry. His only consolation is that Sisko shakes his head, a worry in his gaze that’s almost parental. Julian has no place in the western woods, at least not when Garak or especially _Tain_ is there as well. “I don’t think that’s a wise idea, Julian. We’ll need your healing skills here if anything happens to one of us in the woods.”

 “Just, hear me out. Sir.” Julian sounds determined, the trepidation vanishing from his as he suddenly strides toward the door to the war room without waiting for an answer. Next to him, Jadzia’s gaze is torn between proud amusement for one friend and concern for another, and Garak honestly can’t tell which is for which man. Kira and Odo both simply watch Sisko, disbelief spreading across both their expressions when Sisko follows Julian to the door, pushing it open with a grin that’s far too wide given that his best healer just asked to go on what could easily end in his death.

 “All right.” Sisko says as he holds the door open, grinning almost ruefully when Julian starts rocking back and forth on his feet from excitement. Then, as though remembering whatever made him so nervous before, Julian comes to a dead stop, expression going blank as goes through the doorway. Sisko pulls the door shut behind him and after that Garak can see or hear nothing except Jadzia and Miles whispering to each other a few feet away from, voices muffled but clearly talking about the good healer given how many times they glanced at either the door or Garak himself.  

  Then the door swings back open, Julian wringing his hands in the air, mouth set in a thin line as he comes to stand at is side again. Julian doesn’t meet Garak’s questioning eye ridge and he assumes that Sisko turned down whatever idealistic but ultimately foolhardy plan Julian had to save him. As though he’s ever been the one between the two of them who needed that. Sisko glances around from person to person, voice final when he speaks. “All right. Odo will go with Miles to the East entrance and Julian and Garak will head to the crystal lake.”

 That isn’t what Garak expected.

 “Take care of him.” Miles growls as he storms past him, shooting Julian a short glare that clearly means they’re going to talk about this decision later. Julian rolls his shoulders, smiling almost apologetically as he takes a step toward his friend, but Miles turns to face him suddenly. There’s something almost beseeching in his gaze, a quiet understanding that they both care about Julian - for a certain measure of care - but that the ways they do are too far apart for either of them to understand why Julian loves the other so dearly. But they know he loves them both. “If you can.”

 “Of course.” it’s as much of a promise as Garak can make in the moment, squaring his shoulders as he meets Miles’ gaze. Miles gives a quick nod and then follows the others out the swinging doors, until the hallway is empty save Garak and Julian. Julian swallows tightly, glancing up at him as though trying to memorize each line of his face. His behavior for the past few hours has been strange, even for Julian.

 “My dear healer, I have to admit I’m a little surprised that Captain Sisko went along with this little plan of yours or that you want to be with me rather than our Blacksmith friend.” Garak keeps his voice light and teasing, but he can’t help the genuine curiosity in his gaze as he gives Julian a quick once over. His hands are shaking again, pupils widening almost in slow motion, his breath coming out just a touch uneven.

And then there are those eyes, at once terrified and almost resigned, but more than anything tender, as though Garak is worth all his fears and whatever he thinks this little sojourn to the woods will do to him.

 “Miles would hardly call you a friend.” Julian quips as he tilts his head slightly, smirking as he presses a hand ot Garak’s shoulder more tentatively than he has in months. Julian takes a deep breath and then bridges the gap between them, until his nose almost bumps against the edge of Garak’s upper lip. Julian tilts his head down quickly, voice almost regretful as he presses his other hand against Garak’s cheek. “And I just thought, if things don’t go the way we want, Miles still has Keiko and Molly, and you’ll …”

 Then Julian is kissing him, soft and sweet and more than a little desperate. Garak can’t quite stop himself from wrapping his arms around Julian’s hips. Garak breaks the kiss with a smile that almost feels real, voice coming out fonder than he intends. “I suppose I can just call you dear now without the excuses.”

 Julian laughs and presses his head into Garak’s shoulder. Garak thinks of all the ways a man with magic in his fingertips and stars in his eyes would be worth even more to Tain than the Fae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Comments? :)
> 
> Next chapter: two men enter the western woods, but only one will leave the way he entered.


	3. The Woods

Julian stares down at the pile of shirts in front of him, biting his lip a bit as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. He has _no_ idea which ones to pack, and he can’t exactly ask Elim when he’s trying to impress Elim. Elim, who Julian kissed when he knows damn well that he shouldn’t have. He has no right kissing anyone, of making those kinds of promises when he knows they can only ever be ephemeral. He’s already made promises - if not of the same kind, not quite - to Jadzia and Miles and possibly Kira, Odo, and Sisko too, in a smaller way.

 Julian swallows and tries to shove the thought away, because it’s just a kiss. That’s all. It doesn’t have to mean anything more, and he has no reason to think it  means _anything_ to Elim, who is wise and worldly and charming in a way Julian could only dream of being. And who more than anything wants to go home to Cardassia even in spite of Tain.

 Tain, the entire reason Julian’s packing multiple shirts in the first place. This mission of Sisko’s, as important as it is, shouldn’t take more than a few hours. But Julian has met Tain, seen the cold wisdom in his gaze when he went to find the cure for Elim’s curse almost a year ago now, the one that turned his happy thoughts into pain and his pain to pleasure. Julian came away unscathed and with the spell necessary to undo Elim’s plight, but not without feeling like he’d given something up to those knowing eyes, at once so much and nothing like Elim’s.

Julian can’t imagine it will only take half a day to stop a man like that, and he fears for himself and Miles and everyone else almost as much as he does for Elim.

 A knock on his door pulls Julian away from his thoughts and from the gold and burnt orange silk tunic he’s currently running his hands along, glancing at the already half-opened door. He’s not surprised to see Miles standing there, arms crossed against his chest and face scrunched up so tightly Julian thinks it might stick that way. Julian smiles brightly at his friend, throwing out a welcoming arm even as he internally steels himself for a fight. “Miles! Here for a last minute game of darts before we leave tomorrow? I still need to finish packing, but I can spare a few hours.”

 “That’s not why I’m here and we both know it!” Miles grunts as he crosses the room, pacing back and forth in front of Julian’s end table and half looking like he might punch it any second. Pity, Julian could’ve gone for a game of darts.

 “Miles, if this is about me volunteering for this mission, you know I’m right. The antidote for Tain’s poison needs a careful hand.” Julian keeps his voice as steady as possible as he takes a few steps forward so he’s standing next to Miles, glancing down at him pointedly. Miles meets his gaze for a moment, eyes tight and full of questions and accusations Julian can’t answer or refute. He has no answers and everything Miles thinks is true. He just doesn’t, can’t know everything. Not until Julian understands what everything means.

 “It could have been Jadzia or you could’ve gone with me or Odo.” Miles mutters as he finally sits down in one of the arm chairs, arms still crossed against his chest. Julian swallows tightly as he sits down gingerly in the other, taking a carefully measured breath. He knows Miles has never approved of his … friendship with Garak, has always thought it would bring him to ruin. Julian can’t let him know that if tomorrow doesn’t go well, there’s a good chance he’ll be right. Not when the satisfaction of being right wouldn’t outweigh him immediately locking Julian in his quarters for his own safety.

 So instead Julian omits the truth like he always does, and beside this time it’s suspicions rather than facts. That hardly counts. He gives Miles a lopsided smile instead. “Garak has the best chance of understanding Tain’s methods. We both know that.”

 “And the least chance of not betraying us!” Miles cries as he leans forward so their knees bump into each other. Julian swallows a bit as Miles closes his eyes and mouths something under his breath. Julian suspects ifs a prayer for patience. “Julian, you need to be careful here. I don’t care how much you personally trust Garak, he and the woods are both dangerous.”

 “Trust me, Miles, I know that, better than you think.” Julian meets his gaze straight on this time, voice carrying a weight Julian rarely has. His mind fills with visions of Tain’s eyes and the deceptively enthralling magic of the forest. then it fills with Miles, or terrible pub songs and dart games and long nights spent sitting up planning trips they’ll never take. Julian feels his heart clench in his chest and he can’t stop himself from reaching his hand out, covering Miles’ right one with his own. “Miles, if anything happens to either of us, I want you to know - I love you, Miles. You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had.”

 Miles splutters even though he hasn’t drank anything, eyes widening. He looks appalled, cheeks flushing slightly as he shakes his head back and forth. But he doesn’t pull his hand away. Julian knows that’s showing a lot of affection for Miles. “Julian.”

 “I don’t care if you say it back or if it’s not the type of thing you’re supposed to say during a chat. I mean it.” Julian’s voice is firm, but he can feel the tremor building in his hands and behind his eyes, the tears that threaten to come out. He knows if he cries Miles will panic, but he can’t help it. Miles is the first and only best friend he’s ever let himself have, and if this weekend is the end of such things for Julian, then he needs Miles to know that. Julian needs _someone_ to know he loved them.

 Miles seems to understand the weight of the moment even if he can’t truly know why, the red in his face slowly fading away as he meets Julian’s gaze. For a moment neither of them says anything, nothing passing between them except silence. Then Miles smiles, small and soft in a way that makes almost his entire face crinkle. “I love you too, you pest.”

 “Thank you, Miles.” Julian whispers as he slides a hand to his friend’s other shoulder. Miles stays for half an hour, but neither of them say another word.

******

 Garak half expects Julian to come bouncing out to the path in front of the woods, eyes bright with eagerness and ridiculously long limbs flailing with a level of excitement Garak’s not sure he’s ever felt before. He’s hesitant to take this mission with his … with Julian, especially after the suddenness of that kiss yesterday. It isn’t as though Garak hasn’t suspected Julian of being infatuated with him, he’s seen the way other man looks at him with besotted eyes and rueful smiles, knows that Julian crossed the waters to Cardassia just to cure the curse he let his father put on him. That’s more affection than anyone has ever shown Garak.

 But Garak always thought he’d acted in just enough of an intriguing but aloof manner to keep Julian from acting on his crush. Clearly though either his skills are rustier than he thought or he’s - and admittedly not for the first time - underestimated how stubborn Julian can be. Either way, they’re here now, the memory of Julian’s soft warm lips pressing against his own fresh in his mind.

 So when Julian finally comes out of the heavy oak doors of Fort Sisko, entire body unnaturally stiff and legs moving like a marionette, Garak can’t quite bring himself to erase the hint of a smile on his face. There’s no reason not to let Julian have this fantasy of their future together until they meet Tain in the woods.

 After that - well hopefully after that Garak will return to Cardassia and Julian to The Federation, and today will be a bittersweet memory for them both savor.

 “My dear, you seem anxious. Are you regretting yesterday already?” Garak asks with a wide smile as he saunters towards Julian, torn between hoping the answer is yes and wanting a more intimate kiss this time. He lowers his voice as he comes closer, lets some tenderness slip in as he presses a hand to Julian’s smooth cheek. “I won’t hold you to-“

 “I’m not anxious about you, Elim. I’m just - I haven’t been to the western woods since I was a child.” Julian cute him off as he reaches a hand up to rest on Garak’s opposite cheek, biting his lip as his gaze goes far away from this moment. Garak raises an eye ridge as a rage and terror Garak’s never seen before takes over Julian’s gaze, thousands of questions rushing through his mind, first and foremost what a _human_ child was doing in the western woods in the first place.

 “Well, they’re less dangerous than Garak, I can tell you that much.” Miss voice suddenly calls out, keeping Garak from whispering any of the questions on the top of his tongue. The strange look in Julian’s gaze fades as well, replaced with something warm and amused that’s reserved for Sir O’Brien over him. Garak ignores the way that makes his chest feel like it’s curdling and watches as Miles clasps Julian’s shoulders. “Be careful out there, okay? And remember, I’m not _that_ far away if you need me.”

 “That’s very sweet, Miles, but I promise I can take care of myself.” Julian smirks a little as he reaches a hand up to clasp across Miles on his shoulder, gaze softening even as his tone stays sharp and playful. “You be careful too. I’d rather not have you in the sickbay if it’s avoidable.”

 “I’ll do my best. See you soon.” Miles promises with a wry grin as he meets Julian’s gaze, his own matching the affection there even as he tries to scrunch up his nose to hide it. Humans truly made for such terrible liars compared to Cardassians, it’s almost shocking sometimes.

 Julian smiles tenderly and gives Miles a look that’s surprisingly wistful, swallowing a bit as he holds the other man’s hand to his shoulder. Then, as though remembering they both have missions to take now, he squeezes Miles’ hand like a promise. Then Julian pulls his hands away so Miles can let go of his shoulder, both of them nodding at each other in an understanding Garak doesn’t feel privy to. Julian waits until Miles is by Odo’s side, hands pressing along the saddle of his horse Shamrock to whisper something that makes Garak’s blood run cold. “Goodbye, Miles.”

 “Well, I have to admit that little display of sentimentality was almost touching, dear.” Garak’s voice is light and airy, even as he’s already doing calculations in his mind for what that ‘goodbye’ could mean. Is it possible Julian somehow guessed at his thoughts last night, saw the moments Garak considered trading him to Tain for a return to Cardassia? But no, Julian’s brilliant but not nearly suspicious enough, and besides if he’d realized that he wouldn’t be going with Garak at all. He might care for him, but he cares for his duty and morality more.

 “I’m glad to know our friendship can move even frozen Cardassian hearts.” Julian quips far too cheerfully, smile small and fond as he brushes his right hand against Garak’s. Garak tells himself that this is all right as long as he doesn’t trade Julian to Tain and entwines their hands together. Besides, it’s not a lie if they both know this can only be a fantasy. “Shall we?”

 “Are you sure you don’t want a horse? It’s a long walk.” Garak makes his tone chiding, gazing up at Julian with a stare that manages to combine concern and a certain disdainful quality that the younger man’s always responded to with a surprising eagerness. It makes it almost makes Garak wonder if that look is considered romantic in the Federation as well as in Cardassia.

 He doesn’t add that taking a horse will also let Julian escape back to the safety of his sickbay and fort when Garak abandons him for Cardassia. Maybe he should have, because Julian rolls his eyes and purposefully starts down the short path toward the western woods. “I don’t ride horses.”

 “Fine, but don’t expect me to carry you on my back when your legs get tired.” Garak warns him with a teasing voice, smacking Julian lightly with the edge of his tail. Julian laughs, bright and warm, the tension that seemed to be hanging around him from the moment he left the fort’s walls dissipating into the warmth he’s come to be for Garak the past few years.

 “Of course not. I’ll sit closer to your neck.” Julian corrects him playfully as he leans up and presses another small kiss to his cheek, gaze tender and apologetic all at once. Garak wonders if this is what it feels like to truly be a traitor rather than merely mistaken for one.

 *****

 Julian knows he shouldn’t relax too much, shouldn’t let the giddiness of being with Elim for whatever amount of time they have together carry him away. But he can’t entirely help it; he’s always been an optimist and the further they go in the forest without incident, the more Julian thinks they might both make it out of here unscathed. If they can arrive at the crystal lake without encountering Tain or the Fae, then all they have to do is make sure the right amount of antidote gets poured into the lake and they can return to the village in time to share a late dinner.

 Julian wouldn’t be so confident if it weren’t for the fact that his hands remained as they were, bony and brown and majestically human even as Elim grows more and more draconic. They’re only an hour into their walk into the woods and Elim is already twice as wide as when he walked in, mouth stretching out into a snout and hair growing more and more fur like with each passing second.

 Julian, meanwhile, has stayed the same. Well, he feels stressed and a bit like he might rip out of his skin at any second, but the point is that he _hasn’t_. The decade plus his … father spent teaching him how to pretend to be normal has finally paid off, the magic pulling at him but not overtaking him yet. As long as he doesn’t have to let it flow through him, doesn’t have to erase any more wounds, he’ll still be himself when they leave the woods. All they have to do is avoid Tain and his cold gaze or the Fae and their ever shifting forms and abilities long enough to save them both.

Julian lets out a shallow breath as the thought hits him, some of the fear from this morning coming back to him. He might be a lie in this form, but it’s a lie he’s grown rather fond of and he’s not quite ready to forget.

Julian forgets to be afraid of himself when Elim comes to a sudden halt, spine going rod straight as a low growl erupts from his chest and smoke fills the air. It takes Julian a second to realize it’s pouring out of Elim’s _lungs._ By the time he has, Elim vanishes from view, surrounded by smoke and an ash that somehow stays suspended in mid-air. Julian covers his mouth, coughing into his hand as he feels his shoulders tremble.

 Finally, after what feels like hours but was probably mere seconds, the smoke clears to reveal Elim as Julian has never seen him before. A dragon. He’s massive, Julian barely the same height as his front leg, long thick body spreading out regally and with a grace that takes Julian’s breath away. Every grey and silver scale gleams in the sun, each their own careful shape. His hair has turned into a long, tufted main that spreads from his spoon - still in the center of his forehead but now three times as large - down his back, ending just before his thick tail.

 And his eyes, his eyes are all blue now, in a way that should maybe be terrifying but instead only makes Julian feel safe. Elim lets out an amused snort and Julian realizes he’s staring, maybe even gaping, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Still, he does his best to take on a lecturing voice, crossing his arms and ignoring the delight in his own voice. “Elim! You didn’t warn me the final part of this transformation included quite so much smoke. You’re lucky I’m still able to breathe.”

 “My dear, I’m a creature born of fire, you really _should_ have been able to guess that smoke and ash might play a role.” Elim teases him lightly, voice just a touch … not exactly deeper than before, really, but thicker somehow. It’s as though his voice takes up all the space around them. Elim raises his eye ridges, a familiar look coming over his face as he gently bats Julian with one of his massive wings. “Are you going to stop staring at any point?”

 “Do you want me too?” Julian grins more widely this time, feeling vindicated when Elim preens under his gaze. It’s almost easier to tell what he’s feeling now that he’s fully dragon, wings giving away what his face never does.

 As though somehow knowing what the fond twist of Julian’s smile means, Elim straightens his wings so they hang still behind him. Julian lets out a low sigh, shaking his head a bit as he comes to stand next to Elim’s front leg. He glances down at the deep claws in front, a mirror of the ones usually on his hand, but five times as large and Julian imagines five times as sharp. Elim lets out a low grumble that Julian thinks might be a laugh as he glances down at him. “It’s a little disconcerting to have you looking up at me like this.”

 “Imagine how it feels for me.” Julian points out with a wry grin, shaking his head a bit as he lets his hand brush against Elim’s right wing tentatively. Elim lets out another low grumble as Julian runs his hand down the frankly wonderful mixture of leathery skin and firm scales there. “I’m sorry, Elim, it’s just that you’re so much more magnificent than I could have ever imagined. Truly.”

 “Careful, Julian. You don’t want to flatter an old dragon too much.” Garak chuckles, short and shallow and a little closer to how he sounds as a human. Julian grins widely at the sound, not quite able to bring himself to stop touching those wings. It’s all his favorite textures at once. 

 “Oh, yes I do. The span of your wings alone is extraordinary.” Julian can’t stop the words from bubbling out of his throat, hands moving rapidly through the air. Questions start pouring out his mouth before he can stop himself, thousands of possibilities coming to him and then multiplying in his mind. “Is there a reason the scales on the edge of your wingspan shimmer more than the ones along the inside? Or why the ridges along the back of your skull are so much thicker than the ones along your cheeks, despite the fact if you were wounded there -“

  Garak bumps the side of his head lightly with his wing, raising an eye ridge carefully. “Julian.”

 “Am I talking too much? I know I do that sometimes and it’s probably quite boring for you, all things considering. You’ll just have to find ways to keep me quiet once you’re able to shift back down to human.” Julian tries to keep his tone flippant as he gives Elim a pointed look, twisting on one heel so he’s looking Elim eye to - well, eye to knee. Julian knows he can be … overwhelming at the best of times, let alone when he’s just seen Elim as a dragon for the first time and when his nerves are running so high he can barely feel his hands. But he doesn’t want to drive Elim away right when he thinks that maybe they could be well, a _maybe_.

 “My dear, of the many things I find you, boring has never been one of them.” Elim’s voice comes out a low rumble as he wraps one wing across Julian’s back so he’s practically enfolded in it. Then Elim smiles and Julian thinks he should probably find that sharp row of teeth terrifying rather than comforting. “But I do look forward to finding out if there’s any amount of romance that could render _you_ speechless.”

 Garak’s voice takes on a familiar tone at that, gaze a promise and a warning wrapped into one, just like the first time they met. It’s somehow twice as ridiculous now that Garak’s a _dragon,_ and Julian can’t stop the bubble of laugher that spills from his throat. “ _Elim"._

 Elim rumbles in return and Julian tries to focus on the way that makes the ground vibrate and not the tingling running down his spine. He just has to make it out of the woods.

 *****

 Garak growls low in his throat, the sound reverberating down to his feet and making the ground below shake a bit from the force. Julian stumbles a bit, hands and feet somehow managing to spread out in four different directions without Julian ending up face first in the mud. He’s always been awkwardly graceful, limbs flailing but Julian somehow always staying upright.

Since they’ve entered the woods, both his clumsiness and grace have seemingly doubled, limbs flailing and at times jerking forward without warning, but Julian never once so much as tripping. Garak wonders idly if the magic is protecting him, but pushes the thought aside. He has more urgent problems.

 Such as the fact that Garak hasn’t scented so much as another dragon since entering the woods, nor one of the fae. It’s as though the woods have been abandoned entirely, save the birds flying overhead and the small furred animals scurrying across the forest floor or across the trees. It’s at best suspicious and at worst implies something sinister. Garak takes another deep sniff, letting out a puff of smoke. “We’re almost there and I haven’t seen or smelled Tain anywhere.”

 “Maybe he changed his mind.” Julian suggests with a half smile that doesn’t reach anywhere near his gaze. Julian comes to stop in front of a nearby row of bushes, his right hand brushing against several sharp, emerald colored leaves and scarlet berries that leave tiny juice stains against his vest. Julian doesn’t seem to notice - not that he pays attention to his clothes otherwise - staring straight in front of him with wide eyes. Garak comes to stand behind him, one wing wrapping around him protectively as he follows his gaze. Suddenly he understands Julian’s awe.

  There in front of them sits the crystal lake of magic-born, radiant in the way each atom of water glitters a different color, a brilliant crimson by a lilypad on one side and a vivid chartreuse on the other. Garak can’t help noting that the shifting shades have an uncanny resemblance to the light that spread over Julian’s fingertips just two days ago. Garak thinks it’s a sign he’s getting soft in his old age that he doesn’t point that out to the healer.

 His attention is instead taken up by the area surrounding the lake, awe quickly overtaken by a sense of dread as his training kicks in. The grass surrounding the lake is slightly flattened, a few leaves from the bushes scattered on the ground even though it’s the height of spring. There’s no scent of blood, but then the Fae hardly need to shed blood to take a man’s life. “Or maybe someone killed him before he had the chance to.”

 “Your optimism remains as inspiring as ever, Elim.” Julian answers back with a low scoff, though he turns to look at him with worried eyes. Garak’s not surprised when his hands start brushing down the inside of his right wing soothingly, a small humming sound coming from his lips. Julian may not be a natural when it came to words, but Garak will admit he’s surprisingly decent when it comes to tactile comfort.

 Garak brushes his wing down Julian’s face in a silent thanks, careful to make sure the claws at the tips don’t touch his skin. Julian makes another humming sound again, his hands curling around the edge of two scales. As sweet as the gesture is, they don’t have time for this. Garak never has and certainly doesn’t now that Tain may have been taken by the Fae. They need to act. “Thank you, Julian. Now -”

 A dart flies through the air, Garak’s words cut off as he takes in the scent of magic. Pixies. Garak wraps his other wing around Julian hurriedly, so he’s engulfed between them so fully Garak can barely hear his muffled cries or feel his body slamming against them in a futile attempt to break free. He does feel the dart pierce his hide, a heavy yowl breaking free from his lips as he collapses in pain. He just barely had the wherewithal to pull his wings back so Julian doesn’t end up crushed between them.

 “Elim! What were you thinking?” Julian snaps now that he’s no longer hidden, frustration and worry mixing together in his voice. His face goes blank for a moment as he glances at Garak’s neck, hands falling limp by his sides. Julian bite his lip as his hands come to rest on the dart and the black liquid dripping from its side. Garak can only see a hint of it from his angle, but he imagines it must be even worse than it seems, if Julian’s whimper is anything to go by. “What just hit you? Why didn’t you let it hit me?”

 Garak swallows, wondering for an inane moment if he should tell Julian the truth. Then he pushes the thought aside, because that will only make things more painful for both of them in the very near future. “Poison pixie darts, my dear. They’re attracted to body heat, and unfortunately you humans have a quite a bit of it. As to your last question, I know you can heal me, I have no idea if you can heal yourself and we don’t have time for one of us to be out of commission.”

 “What will happen if the poison stays in your system?” Julian asks in a tight voice, even as his hands already begin to glow with the same myriad of colors as the lake. He looks up at Garak with a stare that manages to be hopeful and resigned all at once, hands reaching for but not quite touching the wound.

 Garak lets out a rasping breath, shifting his heavy wings as he stares down at Julian. There’s a tension in the air and Garak understands somehow that Julian is about to trade something precious to save him. He deserves Garak’s honesty, if only for a second. “The fae don’t take risks, Julian.”

 “Of course not.” Julian’s voice comes out in a sigh, gaze shifting from trepidation to determination as he presses his hands own against the wound. Garak almost points out that he failed to remove the dart when that rainbow lights from before surround it, slowly dissolving the dart penetrating his skin into dust that fades away long before it has time to reach the ground. Julian takes a few labored breaths, the colors sliding up his hands to encapsulate his wrists as well. Apparently this wound took more magic.

 The colors slide up from Julian’s wrist to cover his shoulders, lines of violet chasing cerulean as the black liquid quickly drying and then fading away as though it had never been there. Garak feels a numbing as the magic spreads up to Julian’s shoulders, turning his arms into strange rainbow silhouettes. Julian lets out a haggard breath and collapses to his knees, face pressed against Garak’s left wing. Garak lets out a breath, voice thankfully stronger this time. “Should I pretend not to have seen that again?”

 “It doesn’t matter anymore.” Now it’s Julian’s voice that sounds strangled, breaths coming out in pants as he somehow curls all of those long limbs into a ball. He wraps his left arm around his legs, while he reaches the right one up to clutch around the edge of the scale nearest to him on Garak’s wings.

 “So you intend to leave the Federation?” Garak keeps his voice as light and playful as he can, trying to lessen the sense of dread that’s building in the air. Julian really could be quite dramatic at times. Garak has nothing to gain from telling the Federation Julian has magic and if Tain’s already dead or gone, then there’s no one he can trade Julian’s secrets for salvation with anyway. Then Julian lets out a muffled scream against his wing, one that sends shivers cascading down his exo-skeleton. This is not like the last time Julian used magic. Not at all. “Julian, what is happening to you?”

 There’s no answer at first, Julian saying nothing as the magic from his finger tips continues to snake up his body, outlining him in an array of colors that would be beautiful if they weren’t seemingly killing Julian. Then the man finally looks up at him, breaths coming out in heavy pants as he shifts closer to the center of Garak’s hold. Julian takes a few deep breaths, slender body shaking against Garak’s harshly. When he opens his eyes, they almost look golden in the dim light of his cave. “When I was little, I wasn’t what my parents wanted, so they ... fixed me.”  
  
 Julian spits the word ‘fixed’ like it’s unclean. Garak wraps his wings around him more fully, shielding him from outside view as Julian clutches the center of his head and lets out a yowl that’s as much beast as man. “Why are you telling me this, my dear healer?”  
  
 “I want you to understand -”! Julian cuts himself off with a silent scream of pain, body jerking forward and only held upright by the solidness of Garak’s wings. Julian wraps his small hand around one of Garak’s claws, fine-boned fingers shaking as he looks up at Garak as though in a silent plea. “Understand when I don’t love you anymore.”

 Garak yowls before knows what he’s doing, a painful, primal sound that mirrors the way his wings flap to the side for a moment, pointed ends sticking up towards the tree as though to stab the magic in the air around him. It does nothing of course, Julian still shaking below him as he glows a million shades that have gone from brilliant to vicious in seconds.

 For someone like Julian, who is kindness and affection and brilliance alongside arrogance and naivety, salvation and damnation all in one, to _love_ him feels like a dream. The fact that he’s confessing it in on what seems like his death bed reminds Garak of what he’s always known. Stories, as much as he loves them, do not love him back. “My dear, why would you ever do anything as foolish as falling in love with me?”

 “Sentiment, Elim.” Julian tries to laugh, but it’s cut off by a strange hacking sound as the light starts to spread across his body and down through his mouth. There are tears of light, pure white this time, spreading down his cheeks and down to his neck. Then Julian’s entire body turns into the same spread of white light, spiraling out wider and wider and taller until it’s the shape of nothing rather than a man.

When the light finally fades away, Garak finds himself face to face with a unicorn with Julian’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions? :D


	4. Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you'll probably see, most of the dialogue in the last scene is taken from canon and then reworked for the genre.

 Julian feels the strange surge of magic finally start to fade away from his body, the warm air of forest brushing against his face as the cocoon breaks apart. Julian tried to reach a hand out towards Elim only to find himself tumbling forward toward the ground. Julian lets out a whine of surprise -

 A whine. A whine because he can’t shout, stumbling because he has no hands to catch himself with. Instead Julian glances down to find hooves that are a shimmering black, almost like some kind of jewel rather than keratin. They’re are attached to slender but thin legs covered with smooth fur the color of gold, to the extent Julian can see them. Julian tries to control his breathing as he takes a few shaky steps toward the lake, body feeling wrong and not wrong in the worst ways at the same time.

 Julian lets out another mournful sound, weak and high-pitched in a way his actual voice can’t be sliding from his lips. If he can even call them lips, the face of a horse staring back at him from the water. A horse with his eyes and yet not, the shades of green and brown within them now more like emerald and amber.

 The rest of his … coat is the same shimmering gold as his legs, body still thin and lanky but shaped all wrong. His tail and mane are the same rich dark brown as his hair, thick and curled and falling back in wild tangles. That at least Julian can recognize as himself.

 Not like the rather large, shimmering pale gold horn sticking up from the middle of his forehead, marking him as belonging to the woods and not the world outside of them. Julian shakes his head back and forth several times as though to dislodge the horn, but when he glances back down in the water, it’s still there, beautiful and shining and damning Julian so fully he can barely believe it. He feels something soft and thick spread across the side of his … face - he supposes he can still call it that - and across his back. “I understand why you like carrots so much now, my dear.”

 Julian snorts in derision at him, thankful he can at least still make that noise. He glances down at the water again, trying to find signs of himself within the body of this horse he’s been trapped inside. He can only find it in the mess of his hair and eyes, more brilliant than before, but containing the slowly building terror and shock Julian is filled with.

 “I can’t blame you for staring, you really are quite magnificent.” Elim whispers into his ear, voice half a growl and half words, in that strange way of dragon speak. It’s easy to forget, was easy even after he transformed into the terrifyingly beautiful creature in front of Julian, that Elim is not human like him. Suddenly it’s impossible to, the inexplicable bond that’s always existed between them feeling deeper than ever, as though Julian can feel their neural pathways interlocking somehow. “You’re afraid again. Of who you are or what you’ve become?”

 Julian has no answer for Elim But a pained whine, lips vibrating as the noise slides out across his suddenly thick teeth. Elim’s other wing comes to wrap around him more fully, and Julian takes some cold comfort in the fact that at least that hasn’t been taken away from him. Not yet anyway. “I’ll take that as a yes. Can you speak?”

 Julian blinks twice, his long lashes - another thing that hasn’t altered - brushing against his fur lightly. He tries to remember what he was taught about unicorns as a child. It’s a subject his parents always avoided for _some_ reason, and Julian hasn’t felt much urge to learn more as an adult. But he remembers hearing rumors that unicorns can speak to other magical beings, if they use their horn.

Julian has no idea what that means, but he gives it his level best, pointing his horn over at Elim and focusing on the wide feet ears on the side of his head, thick scales blocking the inner ear from view. He feels his horn start to warm and can see the glow reflected in Elim’s blue eyes and then - he feels the connection, hears a strangely distant voice slide out of his mind. _To you when you’re like this? Sort of._

 “We’ll need to find a way for you to communicate with humans as well.” Elim points out with a low flap of his wings, straightening them out for a moment so they spread out over Julian’s back. Julian attempts to roll his shoulders only to remember he can’t, flicking his head back and forth in what he hopes is a similar enough gesture. He won’t need to figure out how to talk to humans because by the time they see one, he’ll be human again as well. Julian knows if he just focuses on skinny hands and the flat planes of his own face, eventually he’ll be back to normal. Maybe not until they’re out of the woods, but Julian can hold onto his sense of self for that long. He hopes.

 Still, Julian can’t see any harm in humoring Elim. It’s at least something to focus on besides the weight of the horn embedded in his skin like it belongs there. Julian taps his hoof once on the ground, a few leaves crunching beneath the weight of his right foot. Hoof. He taps it again, twice on the ground in the a careful pattern as he tilts his neck up to meet Elim’s gaze. _One for no and two for yes?_

 “Well, I suppose it will do for now, but I don’t know how you’ll try and defend your dear Federation poets now.” Elim lets out a low sigh as he shakes his head back and forth, left wing folding in as though to mimic sliding a hand over his heart. It looks faintly ridiculous as he is, the wing covering half of his massive body. Julian lets out another snort, because it’s not as though he has to defend his Federation poets to anyone but Elim in the first place. He should know; he’s tried to get Miles to have a literary debate with him several times, only to be rebuffed by Miles’ complete lack of interest. Julian twists around, his long hair slapping Elim across one of the ridges on his thighs pointedly.  “Ah, you’ll hit them with your mane. Quite innovative, dear.”

 Julian gives him another light tap with his mane, moving in closer so he can stare up into those blue eyes that give away even less than before. Julian still only comes up to Elim's thigh and as the dragon closes his wings around Julian, encircling him in a way that feels dangerous and protective all at once. Julian swallows, throat pulsing as he meets Elim's gaze carefully. _Elim. Don’t you want to know why -_

 “You’re a unicorn? The thought had crossed my mind.” Elim answers in a level voice, right eye ridge raised slightly as he gives Julian a quick once over. There’s something in the movement of the scales along his cheek, the slight hint of smoke on his breath, that makes Julian think Elim is as wary as he is curious. Julian closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, nuzzling his face into the side of Elim’s right wing without thinking about it. The smooth, leathery skin there is at least just as comforting now as it is when his body is as human as his mind. Julian eventually pulls his head back, horn glowing and creating a small circle of warmth between them.

 Julian’s voice is clearer this time, closer to him than it felt before as its shaded with emotion and memory, flashes of his father’s cold, disappointed gaze and the way the shadows of late afternoon reshape every leave in this forest passing between them. _I_ _was - when I was a child, I wasn’t measuring up to what my parents wanted for me. So they brought me here, to feed me the silver fruit of from the woods. It’s supposed to have … specific effects on humans. If they live through the taste_.

 Elim lets out a low snort, deep in his throat that makes the ground shake slightly below them. Julian nearly topples over, only the strength of Elim's wings keeping him upright. Julian presses his face into them again, making a strange noise that he hopes sounds close to a scoff. Elim glances down at him, smile at once contrite and teasing as he glances at the silver apples hanging loosely on a tree on the other side of the lake. “And I take it you did?”

  _Oh no, Jules Bashir died_. Julian answers in a clipped voice, shivering as he stares over at those deceptively beautiful fruits. He remembers Jules biting into the apple, the sparkling juices sliding down his throat and then the world around him fading away, vision slowly growing blurred while his mom yelled out his name and then - Well, then there was no more Jules Bashir. Julian lets out another whine, pressing his face against Elim's wing to try and block out the memories that are always as viciously clear as the waters in front of them. He’s not allowed to forget who this body once belonged to, what it once was before it became this.

 Elim lets out a deep breath, wings wrapping around him more tightly as though Elim’s hugging him. Julian nuzzles the sides of his body, burying his face in the layers of soft weight and hard scales, letting them dig into the side of his face as he waits for the memories to fade. Elim doesn’t ask about them, he simply waits until Julian’s breathing even outs.  “I see.”

  _That’s when the unicorns came and carried me to this very lake._ Julian’s … voice, for lack of a better word, is soft this time, accent thin and lilting. He can’t help but take a step away from Elim so he can stare down at the water with all of its different hues and movements, still for a second and then creating waves of viridian and lilac in the next. Julian lets out a low sighing sound, the taste of something bittersweet heavy on his lips. These waters are both his salvation and damnation. They’re the reason Julian Bashir exists at all, the reason he grew up quick-thinking and brilliant and all the things he loves best about himself. But they’re also the reasons that Julian Bashir is a life with a time limit and why he needs to get out of this strange right-but-not-right skin as soon possible.

 “Why?” Elim asks after a moment, his own gaze turning to the lake as he ridges pinch closer together. His wings pull in across Julian a bit, as though to shield him from the magic that’s already (temporarily) stolen his humanity. Again.

  _Well somehow, the unicorns didn’t approve of my parents risking a child’s life on the off chance of the fruit making him socially acceptable._ Julian answers in a tone that borders on the acidic, flicking his mane around again as he digs his hooves into the dirt below. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to push down the urge to bolt from his legs. Instead he nuzzles into Elim's wing again, letting his bitterness towards his parents carry him through the rest of the story. _And so they brought Jules here, where healing properties of the lake and the combination of the unicorn’s own magic transformed the lifeless body of Jules Bashir into a unicorn colt._

 “A life for a life, in a sense.” Elim answers in a tight voice, breath warm against, well, his entire upper body as his head comes to press against his side. Julian twists around as much as he can in the space between Garak’s body and his wings, face ending up pressed against Elim's chin. Julian nuzzles against one of the hard scales there, memories of his rebirth flickering and then fading before they ever become clear, all just little bursts of white light and magic and the heel of water dripping off his coat. “That doesn’t explain how you ended up as you are - were.”

 “ _Well, that story depends on who you ask. My parents say it’s because the Fae were so moved by their love for me. I suspect it’s because a unicorn who might have ended up having human emotions seemed like more trouble than it was worth.”_ Julian can’t help the snapping quality to his voice this time, or the way he throws his head back in proud defiance of his family and the woods in one. Neither have ever wanted him as he wants to be, so Julian created a space for himself without either. Elim slides back a bit so he can smile down at him, Wide and kind and with understanding he shouldn’t have. Julian turns away from and stares at an oak tree instead. _“Either way, The Fae transformed me into a little human looking child, but with the warning that if used too much of the magic innate to me or returned to the western woods -_

 “Or both, as we learned today, you’d return to what you are.” Elim finishes for him as he pulls himself to his full height, long thick legs creating tears in the bushes as he lunges forward and across the lake. Seeing his grey body glide across the river, wings spread out wide and the center of them translucent in the light coming through the trees, his scales deepening in a way that brings out the hints of blue beneath the grey is beautiful. Even his claws are entrancing, sharp and gleaming as they brush over the edge of the waters and create tiny rainbow ripples. it almost takes Julian’s thoughts and worries away. He’s always been easily distracted by the sublime.

 So it takes Julian a second to trot after him, holding his head up a bit more stiffly as Elim's words suddenly hit him fully. He lets out another derisive horse snort as he brushes along Elim's left wing with as much arrogant aloofness as he can manage. _Were_.

 Whatever you say, my dear.” Elim tells him in a voice that is far too kind, landing on the dirt path in front of them that’s barely wide enough for him to follow. Julian pushes past him wordlessly. On the other side of that road is Miles and Odo and the city, and once Julian is there and not here, this body will be gone. It has to be.

 ******

 Garak’s thankful that his many decades of Obsidian Order training allows him to cover any genuine sense of awe with a well-honed disinterest. He’s not had much to hide over the years, humans and dragonborn alike being utterly predictable. But’s rare enough for anyone outside of the founders and other creatures of the western woods. For Garak to not only see one, but to have been in the presence of one for over two years without even knowing, without even suspecting what laid between those kind eyes and overly bright smiles.

 Oh, he guessed there was something less than entirely human about dear Julian, he’s not that naive. Even before he outright performed magic in front of him two days ago, there have been hints, small signs that he’s more than human. A certain way his skin sheens in the right light, the quickness in which he recognizes each and every herb, or how his eyes take on coloring more like they have now when he’s excited enough. Garak never would’ve guessed something quite this far from his human guise, though. His guesses were more much mundane than the pure and wild magic of a unicorn.

 It makes sense now that Garak can see him as he should be, majestic and free in a way that almost feels wrong on Julian. His gait as a horse has the same grace and quick steps as his human body, but the awkwardness that Julian’s always carried in the set of his shoulders and lanky limbs has vanished. Every step he takes, every movement, is as sure and smooth as the finest silk. And his voice is the same and not the same at once, emotions and acerbic asides still there, but blanketed in an aloofness that almost doesn’t suit Julian, as much as it is his birthright.

 It’s disconcerting even for Garak, and Julian’s near silence over the past few hours has only made it worse. Garak nudges Julian gently with the edge of his left wing, currently folded in half to make more room for both of them on the path, his own voice more of a growl. “You’re being awfully quiet.”

  _Appreciate the change of pace_? Julian asks as his horn takes on the same low glow as before, the ridges disappearing between the bright light spreading across them. Julian tilts his head, gaze warm and teasing as brushes his muzzle along the inside of Garak’s wing. Garak lets out a puff of smoke, a tiny ring that Julian twists around to follow. Garak wonders if it would create a beautiful storm of sparks and flames if the two were to touch, if his and Julian’s magic would combine to create something both more powerful and more dangerous. He wonders if there will ever be a Julian who’d let them find out.

 “Surprisingly enough, no. I’m finding that I miss all your mindless chatter and spirited, if incorrect, defense of your federation poets.” Garak admits as he bumps Julian’s head with his wing, letting out a small sigh as he remembers their recent discussion on Jesan. Suddenly Julian’s limited sympathy for Laneer makes far more sense. He’s been told since childhood that the things that make him powerful and special are dangerous for him. Of course Julian sees the embrace of those things as wrong. Maybe that will change now that he has a deeper taste of them, a sense of what and what he truly is.

 Julian lets out a low, almost braying sound, meeting Garak’s gaze again as they go around a twist in the road. Garak glances back at the road behind them, ridges above his forehead pressing together as he catches sight of the hoof prints left in the patches of mud amongst the dirt. Garak’s been much more careful than Julian, gliding over each patch of mud so the Fae won’t be able to track them. But he can’t expect his Julian to be as careful as him and unicorns are at least light enough on their feet that the prints will be hidden again soon enough. _You would have been disappointed in my take on Tanith’s later works then._

 Garak raises an eye ridge as he spreads his wings out as the road widens again, his left wing brushing against a few of the errant curls in Julian’s mane. They’re slightly coarser than his hair as a human, but the silkiness and bounce is still there. So is the lightly teasing quality of his voice, even with that airy veil of magic spread across it. Garak lets out a low scoffing sound, flapping his wings up and down twice. “Would I?”

  _I found them quite derivative of Trillian poets of the the third century._ Julian tells him as he presses his horn against the edge of one of the scales along his kneecap, a soft warmth emanating from him and spreading through Garak. Garak thinks he could get used to that at least, but he can’t help but raising his ridges in mock surprise at Julian’s words. He agrees, but it’s more fun to let Julian think he doesn’t or now.

 “Did you? Well have to do a comparative reading when we’re back in civilization.” Garak’s voice is bright and casual, as if there is no chance of them not making it back to Julian’s home. In reality, Garak imagines the possibility of them escaping the woods safely is low at best, and their survival will likely come down to Garak’s wits and the Jem'hadar unwillingness to kill a unicorn.

 Garak decides not to tell Julian that, appreciating the happy lie of his optimism and the petulant way he suddenly shakes his head back and forth. His mane spreads out into a mass of curls that fall across his face, and Garak idly wonders if he’d be able to convince Julian to grow his hair a bit longer when - well _if_ \- he’s disguised as a human again. Garak thinks the other man might be susceptible enough to the suggestion of Garak playing with his hair to make it seem like an agreeable suggestion. Julian lets out a low whine to match the petulant turns of his head, gaze suddenly gaining a hint of irritation. _If I’m even still able to read like this_.

 “Are you going to be so maudlin the entire time you’re a unicorn?” Garak can’t help letting out an exasperated exhale, wrapping his wing more securely around Julian. Garak wishes that Julian would take some joy in this transformation, in this resplendent thing he’s become. It would make Garak feel less … not guilty, exactly, but … frustrated that his own awe with this Julian isn’t shared. Garak supposes that Julian may feel differently about this body than he does about his own draconic form. He is, at least for now, stuck with only one shape, and Garak knows that a lack of opposable thumbs can be frustrating at times. But Garak has complete faith that Julian is clever enough to work around that problem if need be.

  _As though you wouldn’t be if you were transformed against your will._ Julian’s voice becomes clipped and aloof, his gaze flat as he suddenly moves out from Garak’s wings to trot in front of him. As a human, Garak’s sure Julian would be pouting right now, but as a unicorn there’s something almost … dignified about him. Garak thinks he should appreciate that, but instead it just makes his wings curl inward in what could be mistaken for displeasure.

 “Yes, That has happened to you quite a lot, hasn’t it?” Garak answers him with a roll of his shoulders, wings spreading out inch by inch across the space of the walkway. Julian glances back in concern when one of his wings hits the edge of an oak tree, making a loud thwacking sound. Julian immediately races to his side, pressing his muzzle to the injury and glancing down with wide eyes to check for injuries, as though mere bark could penetrate a dragon’s scales. Maybe not so dignified as Garak thought. He can’t help smiling warmly at that as he starts to tease Julian. “But I thought, on some level, you’d appreciate being free of that human cage you wore before now.”

  _It wasn’t a cage!_ Julian cries in a far more heated voice than before, the strength of his emotions breaking through the veil of distance that had overtaken it until now. Garak stops in his tracks,  glancing down at Julian with undisguised surprise for once as his ridges push up and his mouth falls open, letting out tiny puffs of smoke. Julian’s voice is softer this time, gaze beseeching and despondent all at once. _Unicorns don’t love._

 “No, but nor do they regret.” Garak reminds him in a more temperate voice, two emotions suddenly pulling at his chest. One is almost a kind of jealousy, of a life free of the deeper, less explicable emotions that create sentiments and longings that plague Garak. The other part, one Garak doesn’t quite expect, wraps his wings around Julian and prays to Gods he’s never believed in that he does not forget how to love.

*****

 Julian manages to keep his spirits up - or something close to it - the first few hours of their journey, making small talk here and there with Garak and trying to focus on all the new scents and flavors in the air. He isn’t going to know the taste of fairy lights after they leave, after all. But he grows more tired the longer he’s stuck in this body. He’d thought he’d become more human the further they got from the crystal lakes, just like Elim is. But whereas Elim has shrunk to half the size he was only hours ago, front legs slowly morphing back to arms with heavy claws and face somewhere between a snout and a mouth. The black fur along his head is starting to grow straighter and silkier every time it brushes against his arm.

 Julian, meanwhile, is still just as much of a horse as he was when he first touched the waters of the crystal lake. And Elim doesn’t even have the courtesy to shift back into his full dragon form to at least give Julian the _illusion_ the magic of the woods is affecting them equally. Some liar he is. Elim makes a clicking noise with his tongue, shaking his head as his voice comes out without a hint of a growl. “You’re still upset. I really did think you’d be happy, finally getting what to be you truly are.”

  _What I truly am is just about fed up with you, Elim._ Julian answers as he flicks his ears back to show his annoyance, tilting his neck up in a show of the petulant arrogance that when he’s human makes Garak, Miles, and Jadzia roll their eyes affectionately and everyone else treat him like a child. Garak doesn’t quite roll his eyes now, though one eye ridge goes up as he gives Julian what feels like the millionth appraising look, as though something’s altered about him. Well, something more than the obvious. It’s irritating at best and _terrifying_ at worst.

 “Oh, none of that my dear. I know you started out simply human, but once the unicorns blessed you with their bloodline, you belonged to them.” Elim answers back in the same teasing tone that set him off a few hours ago. This time it doesn’t, Julian flicking his main as he lets out a derisive snort. He wishes he could tell if that lack of emotion came from the familiar comfort of bantering with Garak or if it came from a lessening or shifting of his own emotions, passion slowly being replaced with mere playfulness and curiosity, regret with indifference and love with the kind of passing fondness Julian had so many times as a child.

 Julian pushes the thought aside as he lets his mind focus on the dragonborn next to him, taking in those curious blue eyes and the wary concern hidden in the corners of his smile. A surge of affection goes through him, one that makes him nuzzle against the now much more visible and delicate ridges along Elim’s neck. No, love is not lost to him yet. He is still Julian Bashir. _But not their heart and that’s what marks the true difference._

 “Do you have a fairy tale to counter every cynical truth? It’s almost endearing.” Elim answers back with a rough chuckle, snout smoothing out even more until finally, his thin, well-shaped lips are visible again, nose the shape Julian’s come to be rather fond of. Elim glances up at him with a certain careful fondness Julian thinks he’d be hurt by seeing in anyone else’s gaze, but feels like a trust he’s not sure he deserves in Elim’s gaze. Garak runs a hand across his cheek, the now softer skin and scales brushing his cheeks carefully.

  _More endearing than insisting only the cynical can be true, at least._ Julian tells him with another low snort, flipping his hair back as they move ever closer to the other side of the woods, where Miles and Odo and a path to the city awaits them. Julian closes his eyes and hopes that he’ll be human again by the time they pass the last of the trees. Otherwise he won’t be able to talk to Miles at all, and he has no idea if the enchantment that lets him talk to Garak here will last past once they’re outside of the magic that fills every speck of air in the woods. Though, at least silence would let him avoid explaining all of this to anyone but Garak until he had time to think.

 Elim catches his eye with a wide smile, as though able to sense the ramble Julian hadn’t voiced for once. Garak rolls his shoulders, voice like a rich honey as it spreads out through the trees and echoes back to them, as though to mock Julian. “What are you going to do after this? Though I suppose you’re a far better healer like this than in your human form.”

  _Magic may hold certain power, but so does medicine. And I’m far better at the latter than any unicorn is at magic._ Julian answers back in a clipped voice, a more natural confidence filling him this time, as he lifts his chin up proudly. This arrogance at least feels like it belongs to himself and not to the woods and this body. Elim laughs again, warm and with a gaze that manages to somehow agree with him and chide him for his ego all at once. Julian does as close as he can to a smile at that, trotting around Elim a few times so the other man has to twist around to keep meeting his eyes. This moment, at least, feels almost normal.

 Elim finally holds up a hand, palm facing Julian with a quick shake of his head. Julian comes to a stop, flinging his head back as Garak comes to brush a hand across the edge of his horn. “You are an arrogant thing, my dear.”

  _It’s not arrogance when you’re right. Once I have my hands back, I’ll prove it to you._ Julian assures him with the same voice, though he can hear some of the strange veil starting to descend over it, that airy distance that makes him sound aloof and almost cold in his words. Julian tries to shake it off, body shivering as he moves back and forth in attempt to gain his own voice back. He’d thought - obviously erroneously - that the veil’s disappearance was a sign that he’s slowly starting to regain his humanity and leave this forced transformation in the woods where it belongs.

Elim watches him with wary eyes, not moving as Julian tries to remind himself that everything we be all right. Eventually. He just has to get out of the woods and back to lands relatively untouched by magic. Then he’ll be himself again and he won’t have to pace back and forth so much on four legs. He’ll be able to do it on two while also gesticulating wildly with his hands. Suddenly he feels Elim’s hand on his horn again, lips spread out into a grimace. His gaze gives away nothing, which somehow gives away everything. “Oh, Julian. You haven’t considered the obvious possibility yet, have you?”

  _Elim_? Julian asks in as steady a voice as possibly, finally slowing down in his motions to look Elim more squarely in the eye. Elim swallows, staring up at him with a gaze that manages to be galled by Julian’s naivety and contrite for the ugly truths he’s about to reveal to him all in the same moment.

 “You might not have been born of magic, but you _are_ of it now. There’s no reason to think you’ll be able to take on that human disguise of yours just because we leave the woods.” Elim’s answer is given coolly, with no hint of any of the emotions swirling in his gaze right now. They somehow feel easier to read now, and Julian’s not sure if that’s because Elim’s hiding less or because he is. But he can see the strange mixture of hope and fear there, as though Elim isn’t sure if he wants Julian return to himself or stay as an unicorn.

 Julian stills, the slow growing fear that’s been gnawing at his stomach for hours slowly rising to the surface and overtaking his senses. He tries to hold onto the sliver of optimism that’s been driving him since he first turned (back) into a unicorn, but he can feel it slipping away more and more second by second. It’s hard for Julian to hold onto Federation optimism when he’s so far from the Federation, closer to Cardassia and its cynicism and the chaotic order that fuels the magic of the woods. Julian has no idea how to convey any of that, so instead he nuzzles his face into the scales along Elim’s shoulder. _Elim_.

 “But I have been wrong before.” Elim murmurs in a voice that manages to be soft and tired all at once. His hand slides under Julian’s chin and tilts his head up. Julian finds himself face to face with a wall of amethyst dragon fire with Tain on the other side of it.

*****

 “Wait here.” Garak calls to Julian as he lets go of his chin, taking a few hesitant steps forward to the edge of the wall. Julian lets out a low, derisive whine that Garak chooses to ignore for the moment. He suddenly has more important things to focus on. In theory, it shouldn’t be able to stop him from passing through, the blood of dragons running through his veins keeping him from being burned by their fire. But he’s known since he was only a boy to never underestimate Tain’s ingenuity. It’s utterly possible this wall of fire is a mere illusion and Garak will instead find himself walking into a trap or through odorless poison that will leave him dead on the spot. There is, after all, _almost_ no one more deviously talented than Enabran Tain.

 Garak is left with the truly unCardassian choice of either running or taking a leap of faith. He glances back at Julian and his wide, concerned eyes. Garak decides in that moment, for better or worse, to do what his unicorn might and steps through the wall.

 “Tain, you seem to have left retirement far behind you.” Garak calls as he presses through, so far feeling no worse for wear. He comes to stand in front of the man and raises an eye ridge, carefully flicking his gaze across their surroundings. He can scent elves everywhere, a slightly more musky note that points toward the woodland bound Romulans rather than the seafaring Vulcans. Garak makes a tsking sound with his tongue, shaking his head in mild disapproval as Tain gives him a wide smile. “Unless you and these elves merely wanted to see the waters of the crystal lake. You know even poison won’t take them out completely. It may barely make a dent.”

 “I’m afraid not.” Tain agrees with a hint of a sigh, as though disappointed he can’t exterminate this threat as smoothly as he has all the others in his past. That makes Garak smile viciously, one hand coming to rest under his chin as he gives his mentor an appraising stare. How sad, for the great Enabran Tain to find himself facing a challenge he can’t handle with his usual finesse. Tain suddenly reaches his right hand out, clasping his Garak’s shoulder as that smile grows more devious and complicit. “We’re making the first strike, Elim.”

 Garak swallows thickly before he can stop himself, wondering just what that will mean for Cardassia. It will put them into direct conflict with the Fae without knowing just how deep their magic runs. But then, that’s going to happen either way, and it’s better to start off strong than to wait for Dukat to drive their entire society into the ground. He can’t help but agree with Tain, even as all the possible ways this little game of Tain’s could go wrong starts to fill his mind. It’s daring and outrageous in a way Garak’s always associated with himself more than Tain. “I didn’t think there was anyone brave enough in Cardassia left for that.”

 “In Cardassia, no. In the Obsidian Order and Tal Shiar, quite a few.” Tain explains in a voice that borders on the glib, a low laugh escaping his throat. Well, that explains the scent of Romulans everywhere. Garak will give them that they’re suddenly better at blending and disappearing into their surroundings than Cardassians, not one visible in the trees and bushes where Garak is sure they must be hidden. Of course, they can change the size and shapes of their bodies at will and Garak, tragically, can only change between two, arguably three, forms. It’s hardly a fair comparison.

 Garak wrinkles his nose at Tain, lips curling in disgust as he returns his gaze to the older man and away from the Romulan filled trees. “You’re working with pointy eared fools ands employing mindless goblins as assassins? Tain, I’m disappointed.”

 “I always said to burn your bridges, Elim.” Tain reminds him with a hint of a chuckle as he takes a few steps back, turning to smile brightly as Garak raises an eye ridge. If there were someone else here, Garak’s sure that Tain would tell them about how Garak’s planting tiny seeds of discord between himself and his allies, testing him carefully. He’s also reminding Garak that he’s one of those burned bridges, his exile from Cardassia a far sharper slap in the face than something as simple as mere jail or death could ever be.

 Garak sniffs a little, turning his gaze away from Tain and toward the burning wall of fire behind him. “You also always said the Tal Shiar were sloppy.”

 “Not every spy can be you, Elim.” Tain lets out a low exhale, glancing up at him as thousands of memories seem to fill the air around them. Sentiment hangs there heavily like a sweetly perfumed poison, interrogations and stories of their cleverness, their skills bonding them as much as Tain will allow. The man had let him closer than anyone, save Mila, and that’s saying a lot even at the same time it says very little. Tain must remember that fact, because he suddenly twists around with cold eyes. “Now, go ahead and betray me again so I can kill you and be on my way.”

 “I never betrayed you!” Garak cries before he can stop himself, more genuine sorrow than he intends sliding into his throat. He’s never been quite as good at lying to Tain as he is to everyone else. Garak looks up at Tain’s unmoved face and takes a few deep breaths, voice steadier but no less broken. “Not in my heart. I came here to save you.”

 “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I believe you, Garak.” Tain says after a moment, smile small and almost reaching his eyes. Garak blinks owlishly, mouth falling open slightly as he takes in the almost genuine emotion in Tain’s gaze. It’s the most he’s ever seen from the other man, and Garak suddenly finds himself not quite sure what will come next. He half expects one of the Romulans to shoot another pixie dart in his chest or for Tain to do the job himself as a sign of respect. He certainly doesn’t expect Tain to take a step forward and slide a hand to his shoulder, lips twisting into an expression that’s halfway between a grimace and a smile. “It’s just not been the same without you.”

 Garak can’t help raising an eye ridge at that, trying to swallow the hope that’s slowly rising in his chest. He can guess at several different hidden meanings behind those words, and over half of them mean he might - but he can’t think that. Not yet. “Really?”

 “Yes, so I’m giving you a choice. You can walk out of this barrier shield now back to your unicorn friend, or you can come back with me.” Tain explains as he pats his shoulder, meeting his gaze evenly as he rests his hand there. Tain’s gaze is cold and calculating, but with just enough familiarity to make Elim’s heart skip half a beat. The offer is genuine. There will be a catch of course - Garak isn’t a fool - but Tain is offering him a way home, a way back to life at his side and in the Obsidian Order. Garak could go back to Cardassia and be free of the cold stares and whispered words of Bajor and the Federation and back to Mila’s sharp but loving words and the heated rocks of his childhood and his garden. “I can’t forgive your betrayal, but I can forget it enough to have you work at my side. I have missed you, Elim.”

 “What do you want me to do?” Garak asks as he clasps Tain’s arm with his own, a genuine smile blossoming across his face as reality hits him. Tain grins, something sparking in his eyes as he leans over and presses his lips near Garak’s ears. His words make Garak’s blood run cold, their own type of poison. Garak can tell Tain knows that. It changes nothing. Garak will, has always done, what he must for Tain and Cardassia. He cannot allow this to be different, no matter how much it makes his chest hurt.

 *****

 Garak crosses through the wall of fire, mouth set into a thin line of determination, hair out of place and falling across his eyes to mask his expression. Julian lets out a strange, animalistic sound as he comes to stand in front of him, nuzzling his face against Garak’s chest. It’s a cold comfort, but Garak accepts it nonetheless, wrapping his arms around that thick neck. That’s when the rope of blood magic appears, sliding around and up Julian’s neck, twisting and turning around his snout in a makeshift muzzle. Julian lets out several cries, eyes wide and betrayed as he pushes against his chest. “I know you’re angry now, my dear, but I promise you this is necessary. You’ll understand once we’re in Cardassia.”

 Julian gives him a look, heartbroken and far away all at once, and Garak does his best to ignore it. Once they’re in Cardassia and safe from the Fae and Julian is free to be himself, he’ll forgive him. Julian will understand that Cardassia needs his healing powers and eventually he’ll realize how limited the scope of the Federation was, how much good they kept him doing by hiding him away in a mask. Julian will forgive him then. He might even be thankful.

 After all, Garak’s never been as good at lying to someone as he is to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments or questions? Anything else I should tag?


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